


lethal combination

by johntography



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Blind Date, M/M, Polyamory, Strangers to Lovers, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johntography/pseuds/johntography
Summary: Yukhei laughs, his voice passing at least three different octaves. “I knew you’d have fun. So, who’s the lucky person?”“Actually,” Mark says and looks up at the sky. It’s beautiful, clouds like rare dark grey specks in the sea of baby blues and lilacs.“Actually, there are two people.”





	lethal combination

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 44: characters A and B are meeting each other for the first time on a blind date at a restaurant. things are going off without a hitch until they notice a couple tables over C is alone, looking visibly upset, and on verge of tears having been stood up by their own blind date.
> 
>  
> 
> there is no way i could have ever thought i was capable of writing something so long. this fic is not my baby, it's my teenager that i can't wait to push out of the comfort of my home for it to finally learn how to fend for itself. 
> 
> direct any of your johnmarkhyuck (or maybe yukkun?) thoughts to my [[cc]](https://curiouscat.me/shownuharem) or [[twt]](https://twitter.com/shownuharem)
> 
> named after a song from the wombats' wonderful album “beautiful people will ruin your life“

 

 

 

Mark Lee: college student, Canadian Korean, clumsy squared, dermatologists hate him. The power of friendship compels him to sign up for a blind date event, and the outcome is one he couldn’t have even thought of in his daydreams. Follow him on his adventure to win the hearts of two cute boys, navigate university and figure out how life as an adult works. (Spoiler: he fails at one of those things.)

Or at least, that’s how it would sound if this was a romcom.

 

*

 

In reality, Mark walks past the entrance of the restaurant and back five times before he is finally able to go in.

He wrangles his fingers, rubbing their pads together for a little bit of warmth. Summer ended on an abrupt note this year, one day scorching sun rays and clear skies overhead, the other fluffy marshmallow clouds over grey and skin clad in goosebumps. Mark has a habit of not dressing according to the weather even when it’s more predictable than that. This time too, he is wearing a short-sleeved shirt that may or may not flatter the width of his shoulders, but does nothing to protect him from the autumnal cold.

Left foot follows right follows left, and soon he finds himself in front of a counter that holds stacks of intricately designed menus and — surprisingly — coupons. Making a note to sneak a few on his way out, Mark scans over other flyers lying around. As if to reassure him, one peeks from under the pile of recommendations for different art exhibitions and other things few people bother to read.

 _Blind dates_ , it says in a font that is too neat to be real handwriting. Mark knows he is in the right place, or as right as something that he was talked into by one of his irresponsible friends can be.

He takes a closer look at the flyer which turns out to be a list of seating arrangements. Tries not to snicker at the names _NoJen_ and _10_ , presumably over at the window table. People with such stupid nicknames usually end up being a good match.

Mark himself kept it tame with a _MarkL156_ , reasoning that his blind date would ask him about the number and he could share one or two stories about Canada and what it was like growing up there as an ice breaker.

“You’re here for the blind date thing too, huh?” a voice asks then from somewhere behind Mark.

Mark, certified scaredy cat, damn near jumps up into the air at being approached so suddenly. Turning around to see the owner of the voice tower over him by at least a head, his eyes only widen further.

The man — he doesn’t seem to be much older, but due to his height alone Mark can’t bring himself to refer to him as a boy — chuckles, lips stretching in favor of a somewhat gummy smile. Mark is a lot less intimidated at that. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” Mark assures, himself more so than the man, if he’s honest. “I am, I’m trying to figure out what table to expect my date at.”

“Can I see?” the man nods towards the list, making a miniscule, slow gesture with his hand. The manner in which he moves is awfully careful and gentle, as if the stranger is trying not to spook Mark again. Despite the fact that he is no longer scared, Mark’s heartbeat won’t slow down, but he is appreciative nevertheless.

The man hums, scanning the sheet of paper with a look of intense concentration. Mark musters the way inky black hair falls into his face, the way those heart-shaped lips part as he mumbles under his breath, the silk-like material of his shirt. For a single treacherous second, a thought crosses Mark’s mind: if luck may have it, they will spend the next few hours together.

“Are you Mark?” black-haired stranger questions, in perfect English of all things, and Mark gasps a soft quiet _oh_.

“Yes?” he responds in Korean. “ _I mean, yes._ ”

Stranger laughs again, smile a lot more sincere and less awkward this time, and Mark finds himself giggling along. “I’m Johnny. They must have misspelled your name. You’re over there, at the table by that plant pot.”

“Thank you,” Mark says, getting re-adjusted to the way his native tongue’s syllables roll off the tongue. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

“It _is_ very nice to meet you,” Johnny assures. Mark marvels at the way his hand disappears in Johnny’s bigger one.

“Kind of a shame we’re not matched up,” he tries for a casual tone, as their fingers slide apart slower than they should.

“I was gonna say the same thing, but I wasn’t sure if you, uh—”

“Yeah,” Mark smiles. Silence hangs heavy in their space by the counter, but Mark came prepared for the kind of awkwardness that comes with meeting completely new people. This is manageable.

He is about to try to bid adieu to Johnny, not wanting to ruin his chances with whoever the organizers randomly chose for him. Whoever it is, Mark is almost unwaveringly sure they’re going to have a good time. Something about Johnny is naturally amiable and easy, even though he doesn’t seem to be one to talk at a hundred miles per minute. But Johnny breaks the quiet first.

“Well, if your date turns out to be a jerk, don’t be a stranger. I’ll be at the table closest to the door.”

“Sure, I will,” Mark says. He already knows he won’t do it, won’t disrupt Johnny whom he literally just met, and he feels a light kind of longing settle in his stomach, the kind you experience when you miss someone before they even leave. He attributes it to finally having met someone he could have spoken fluent English with.

“Okay, Mark. Go get ‘em,” Johnny says with a smile and such a lack of finality in his voice that Mark almost forgets he has somewhere to be.

 

The table by the plant pot is occupied by one person, a set of cutlery and two glasses of water.

Signing up for this was done on a whim, so Mark never really took into consideration what outcome would be more pleasant for him: for his date to be there first or after him. But the encounter with Johnny fills him with enough courage to ignore all the calculations his brain starts up at the sight of his assigned companion sitting there with their back to the door. Left foot follows right follows left, just like before.

He can do this.

“Hey.” Mark winces at the hesitancy that bleeds into his voice. Ultimately though, he knows he couldn’t have done any better, had he waited even longer. A shaky start isn’t the end of things. Deep breaths.

His date lifts their head from where they must have been mustering their own shoes, looks Mark in the eyes.

“Hi. I’m Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck immediately makes an impression on Mark that is completely different from the one Johnny left on him. He doesn’t smile to reassure Mark, but doesn’t look disgruntled to see him, either. Just looks like Mark has approached him on the street to ask for directions or something along the lines. Casual. That alone is something to envy.

“Nice to meet you, Donghyuck,” he says politely, “my name is Mark. You can call me Minhyung, if that’s easier.”

“Mark,” Donghyuck echoes, swallowing the r completely. “Which one do _you_ prefer, then?”

Mark halts a little. What is up with today and all these strangers that seem intimidating at first, but turn out to be considerate and accommodating?

“I’m more used to being called Mark,” he admits with an awkward smile etching itself into his cheeks.

“Good,” says Donghyuck, fingers running through his light orange hair. Mark tries to take him in before the novelty can fade: the slope of his nose that reminds him of— nevermind. “So.”

“So?”

“So, Mark.” Mark leans forward, hoping he looks interested, but not too enthusiastically so.

“Tell me your most embarrassing childhood memory that comes to mind.”

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up, and that’s when Donghyuck grins for the first time.

 

 

For the next half an hour or so, Mark retells the first time he came across Soundcloud and the approximate lyrics of the songs he would record to upload on there. From there they delve into pop culture preferences and then into a full-on discussion about which pop diva made the biggest impact on the face of today’s music. Mark doesn’t quite understand Donghyuck’s enthusiasm regarding Beyoncé, and maybe it should be overwhelming, how strongly he feels about her legacy, but Donghyuck just shrugs it off and says, “Michael Jackson is the real legend here, anyway,” and they begin recalling when they had first seen ‘Man In The Mirror’ on TV.

That’s the dynamic they seem to fall into. They don’t agree on a lot, but are able to still find a general consensus that doesn’t contradict either of their opinions. Donghyuck is a really good story-teller, but he’s a good listener, too, and that encourages Mark to talk more, even when he mixes up words in an attempt to speed up sometimes. Mark reminisces about Canada without having to go into explanations on why some things are different there; Donghyuck seems to take him at face value, asking questions only to receive more details.

Some time later, Mark even makes a pun about the dishes they ordered, which says a lot about how much his nerves have eased since he entered the restaurant. Donghyuck hits his head against the table. It’s not an ideal reaction, but it makes both of them laugh until their eyes are glazed over with tears.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mark asks, watching Donghyuck rub his forehead. His fingers are so small, nails clipped short. It makes Mark coo internally.

“The more you ask, the more I have to resist the temptation to make a scene so that the entire building thinks you gave me a concussion,” Donghyuck looks at Mark from beneath his lashes. The shimmery eyeshadow and smudged black on his lids make him look less coo and more awe-worthy. Mark keeps his composure.

“You must be the kind of guy who has a ‘10 things to do before I turn 20’ list with extreme stuff like rooftop parkour and bungee jumping on it.”

“I’m not that adventurous. Or, well, I probably could be... I just try not to have inhibitions,” Donghyuck expounds. “If I have something to say, I will most likely say it. If I don’t like someone, I won’t bother sucking up to them. It’s less of a personality trait and more of a resolution.”

A nod. “So you think anyone could do it?”

“Indeed. Sure, for some it may take a bit more work, for one reason or another,” Donghyuck concedes, spooning his Miso soup. “Are you trying to ask me whether I think you’re capable of removing the stick lodged in your ass?”

Mark’s jaw drops at Donghyuck’s bluntness. But he knows he doesn’t really mean it, if his smirk is anything to go by. “I do not have a stick—”

“You’re right, you don’t.”

Immense satisfaction rushes through Mark at the fact that Donghyuck finally agreed with him on something, despite being interrupted.

“If you did, you wouldn’t be here, eating Japanese food with a complete stranger.”

“And you can’t be that cool and collected if you still use Facebook,” Mark retorts, referring to the fact that the whole blind date deal was indeed organized on there.

“You got me!” Donghyuck calls out in a dramatically upset voice, making Mark drop his sushi roll like an idiot.

Seeing Donghyuck fake sob about the bacteria that Mark just digested by eating it off the floor is one hundred percent worth it.

“But, um,” Donghyuck starts hesitantly. “You’re not regretting coming here, do you?”

“Not at all,” Mark replies. Though the novelty has indeed worn off by now, seeing Donghyuck look the way he does now, small and unsure, is like observing a completely new person. Seeing him smile the way he does now — slowly, then all at once — is a different issue altogether.

Mark doesn’t know what to do with the humming inside of him that seems to intensify whenever he is able to make Donghyuck look some kind of happy.

So he does what he does best, which is. Ruin the moment.

“The food tastes too good for me to have regrets.”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot way up into his parted bangs. For a moment Mark’s heart plummets into his stomach at the thought of having seriously offended his new acquaintance.

The next moment he’s too occupied by the sparks of pain shooting up his tongue and enveloping his taste buds, as Donghyuck picks up a chunk of wasabi and pushes it into Mark’s mouth.

“You did not just—” Mark manages to bring out, before the spice really kicks in and he is left to fan his burning mouth and listen to Donghyuck cackle like an evil witch from a Disney film.

“Yes, yes, I did,” Donghyuck says and stands up to bring Mark his glass of water. (He then proceeds to help him drink it in moderate sips, even though sliding it across the table would have done the job just as well.)

Once Mark recovers from the last coughing fit, all he can do is stare at the grinning boy opposite of him. It’s a little wonder, really, how they managed to go from awkward _hello_ 's to attacking each other verbally and physically and being able to laugh it off. Until he notices something, or rather, someone else.

At the table closest to the door, Johnny sits, staring off into the distance. All alone.

Mark’s smile slides right off his face.

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks, speech muffled due to the ginger leaves in his mouth. “Do you need me to get you more water?”

Mark clears his throat, suddenly at a loss for words. “Um, no, I’m good. It’s just, when I walked in, there was this guy.”

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. “Are you trying to insinuate that you have a boyfriend, or—”

“No no, no—”

“—are you talking about the guy that could probably bench press me and you at the same time you talked to at the counter for ages?”

“I… yes?” Mark pretty much whispers, feeling embarrassed at Donghyuck’s description. “Wait, how do you know?”

“I was here before you, remember,” Donghyuck points out. “I only switched seats to make it look as though I wasn’t watching the door.”

Mark doesn’t really know how to respond to that, but it turns out he doesn’t have to.

“Anyway, what about him?”

“Well, he’s also supposed to be on a blind date.” Donghyuck nods, looking up from his food to give Mark his full attention. “But he’s the only one at his table.”

“Is that so,” Donghyuck mutters, promptly turning around and scanning all the tables in the room. Mark doesn’t even have to guide him to look into the correct direction.

“Are you sure his date isn’t just, like, powdering their nose or something?”

Mark giggles quietly at Donghyuck’s choice of words, before remembering the situation. “Pretty sure? I mean, look at his body language... and stuff.”

Donghyuck hums, stuffing the last roll off their shared plate into his mouth. Once he’s finished chewing and wiping his mouth, he pushes his chair back to give him enough room to stand up. Mark is momentarily distracted by finally seeing the other from head to toe. But soon enough, the dormant alarm bells in his head start ringing.

“Donghyuck? What are you doing?”

“Going over to check if Mr Biceps is okay, duh. Isn’t that what you were going to suggest?” Donghyuck explains. It’s another reminder of how much he envies the way Donghyuck casually says things versus the anxiety with which Mark’s voice would squeak at making such a sudden proposition.

“I— what? No, I just noticed—”

“Well, it’s what I’m suggesting, then. How would _you_ feel if you were stood up by your date?”

Mark presses his lips together, mentally conceding that Donghyuck makes a good point.

 _If your date turns out to be a jerk, don’t be a stranger_. Even if the offer was simply made out of politeness, to fill the silence — the cruel irony of it isn’t lost on Mark. He remembers the way Johnny had seemed to take himself down a notch as to not scare Mark again, the reassuring glint in his eyes when he told Mark to _get ‘em_ , how whatever that was supposed to mean psyched Mark up enough to get over his fear of approaching his date and led him to be having a really good time.

“His name’s Johnny,” Mark says to Donghyuck, who waits patiently for consent to his idea. “Let’s go cheer him up.”

Donghyuck smiles brightly and takes Mark by the arm — whether to make sure he won’t run away, out of a want to be closer or on a purely subconscious level, remains unknown.

 

 

Mark’s first instinct is to shake his arm off; he’s not one for spontaneous physical contact. But the humming in him becomes more of a hollow buzz at the thought of putting distance between them, and he’s already managed to override his instincts so many times this afternoon. By now, it feels a little easier to ignore his thundering heartbeat in favor of listening to Donghyuck ramble about a friend of his who was stood up by his girlfriend on their anniversary.

And then they’re in front of Johnny’s table.

“Hello there, Johnny,” Donghyuck says. “Johnny hyung. Can I call you that?”

Johnny doesn’t look up at first.

All he does is blink, as though he can’t be sure he’s the one being talked to. It tugs at Mark’s metaphorical heart strings to the point where he decides to stop hiding behind Donghyuck (not that it’s any effective, anyway) and come closer, mumbling a greeting of his own.

“I’m Hyuck, and this is Mark, I believe you’ve already met.”

At that Johnny finally lifts his head, and his lips part prettily, just like when he was reading the seating arrangement earlier. “Is it okay if we sit with you?”

Johnny puts his phone that he was previously busy with to the side, and says, “Sure.” Mark internally sighs in relief and follows Donghyuck’s lead to sit down. “Help yourself to the food, too, I can’t stomach all this by myself.”

Then, he looks at Mark and Donghyuck, squeezed together on one chair, really looks at them, and smiles.

“So, Mark, your date didn’t end up being a jerk.”

“That, uh, that depends on your definition of jerk,” Mark replies, a little stiff at the novelty of the situation.

Both Johnny and Donghyuck seem to find it funny despite the lackluster delivery, though. The sound of their laughs intermingling puts him a little more at ease.

“I made him choke on wasabi,” Donghyuck explains, and he sounds more proud than Mark thinks he should be.

Johnny’s mouth forms a neat circle and the shock is evident in his sharp facial features for all of two seconds before he starts laughing again. “Did he deserve it?”

“In my humble opinion, yes. I wanted a serious answer to whether or not he was having a good time with me and he said the food made up for it.”

Mark smiles at the subtly whiny tone Donghyuck says that in. “You know I was just kidding.”

“You better be, Mark,” Johnny demands, clearly faux-dramatic. “I’ve known Donghyuck for all of two seconds, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in the room and then myself.”

A minute later, Donghyuck is still pretending to be mad at Johnny, because, “We talked for hours and he hasn’t snorted like this, not a single time.” Mark wipes the tears from his eyes. “Unless you count his wasabi coughing fit.”

“Ugh, stop,” Mark pleads, shoving him to the edge of the chair. His ears are gradually but surely turning red, if the heat spreading to them is a reliable indicator. “I feel like everyone in here is staring at me now.”

“Good,” Donghyuck says.

“Let them,” adds Johnny, smirking from across the table. “At least they will stare knowing my dates finally showed up.”

“Your dates, huh,” Mark echoes quietly. He can feel Donghyuck’s eyes on him, attentive as ever, as if trying to gauge his reaction to Johnny’s joke. Wait, was it a joke?

Something in his face expression must have changed, though, because Donghyuck turns back to Johnny and says: “Sorry for being late, honey.”

And that’s that.

 

 

Despite Donghyuck’s explicit disapproval (Mark isn’t surprised, considering he chose to kickstart their conversation by making Mark expose his bad prepubescent decisions), they manage to go through the basics. It turns out that all three of them go to different universities, with Johnny, five years Donghyuck’s senior, nearing the end of his Master’s program.

It also turns out that, seeing as Mark had assumed Donghyuck was his age, there is absolutely no way he can now get him to use honorifics with him, even though the younger seems to have no problem asking _Johnny hyung_ to _pass him the nigiri, please._  With his chopsticks. Right into Donghyuck’s mouth. Mark is torn between feeling jealous that Donghyuck didn’t flirt that unabashedly with him, cringing at the choice of technique, and feeling strangely fond at Johnny making airplane sounds as he feeds Donghyuck.

“D’you want some too?” Johnny asks then, with that flawless English pronunciation of his, and Mark stops feeling torn at all.

Except Johnny decides that teasing Mark is his new favorite thing to do, bringing the sushi roll close to Mark’s lips and pulling away in the last moment, making Mark chase after it. This continues until Mark is so frustrated that he grabs Johnny’s hand and guides it to its destination himself. Mark begins to realize why the two enjoy embarrassing him so much. He watches Johnny avoid his eyes and blotches of pink appear on his cheeks, all flustered and soft.

He looks over at Donghyuck then. A hasty thought begins to form in his head, about whether any of this is inappropriate when Donghyuck is the one who was supposed to be his date. It spirals into two, three, twenty, more and more, before he feels a hand pat his shoulder.

“Don’t worry so much,” is whispered into his ear. “No inhibitions, remember?”

Mark can’t help but worry. He has a feeling Donghyuck knows that, though, and is just trying to pull him out of his head enough to engage him in their conversation. So he nods, takes a deep breath, and does his best to tune back in.

“It’s nothing overly professional. But I prioritize it as much as I can, so. I’m known to pull all-nighters to make it to late night gigs, do all my readings and go to class in the morning.”

“Sounds like you have too much on your plate,” Donghyuck says. His voice remains more or less leveled, but Mark can feel the friction of his leg bouncing up and down.

“It’s nothing like that,” Johnny assures with a soft chuckle. “I like being busy, having somewhere to be, you know?”

“I do,” Mark speaks up. “I’m kind of like that too. Sometimes I fill my schedule just because I know I can and because doing something is better than doing nothing.”

“Okaaay,” Donghyuck pats the table, as though to demand attention. “I diagnose you two with workaholic syndrome and prescribe at least a day of lazing around and binge watching Youtube videos and a healthy sleeping schedule.”

“You’re not even a doctor—”

“I passed the one required biochem module with flying colors, I know what I’m talking about.”

Mark can’t really argue with that. Johnny, though, seems to not want to go down without a fight. “You said ‘workaholic syndrome’, but most of my obligations aren’t work.”

“Not in the traditional sense, anyway,” Mark points out.

“Exactly, thank you!” Johnny high fives Mark enthusiastically. Then takes a moment to think. “Wait, whose side are you on?”

“No side, I’m not picking sides, I’m a neutral party,” Mark rambles, gesticulating with his hands all over the place.

“It’s about the concept of it. The fact that you feel like you need to be active at all times. You need to be able to just let go and chill out.”

“And I can only chill out if I am at home, in sweats, with my hair all greasy, watching television.”

“I’m not suggesting for you to stop washing your hair, duh.”

“But nights in can be fun.”

“I don’t have a roommate,” Johnny whines, “it’s boring by myself.”

“Then we’ll come over and make it fun. Right, Mark?” says Donghyuck.

Mark takes a moment to set the scene in his head. An artsy looking apartment with fake plants that don’t get enough sun. A couch, definitely too small for two semi-tall men and one (friendly) giant to wrestle over the remote on, but they’d do it anyway. He imagines discussing conspiracy theories and just getting to know Johnny and Donghyuck better, not out of any social convention, but because he genuinely wants to. The imagery has warmth pulse in his sternum, and it feels both pleasant and like he’s seconds away from having a heart attack.

“That sounds really, really good,” Mark responds, then, hoping it’s not too obvious how affected he is.

Johnny beams. “Pinky promise?”

“You’re a big baby,” Donghyuck huffs, the corners of his mouth as upturned as ever.

“I haven’t received any complaints from either of you yet,” Johnny retorts smugly.

“One more lame comeback, hyung, and you’ll have to take mine and Mark’s cheques, too.”

“Who said I wasn’t planning on doing that to begin with?”

“Let’s not do that,” Mark rationalizes.

“I just want to treat you two,” Johnny says, and he does the thing where his voice grows quieter and less insisting in order to not make them uncomfortable.

“How about you treat us to… your number.”

Mark and Johnny blink in unison, unsure if they made the sentence up or if it actually came out of Donghyuck’s mouth. Donghyuck himself seems equally as shocked, until the embarrassment begins settling in and Mark watches mortification fill his eyes, lips tucked in and forming an oval of sorts.

“Please never say anything like this again.”

“I have many regrets in life,” Donghyuck agrees.

Johnny plants face-down onto the table. Mark takes the liberty to gently pat his head, because his curiosity about how soft Johnny’s hair may be outweighs the fear of rejection. At first, Mark assumes Johnny is too distracted by second-hand shame to protest against his touch. That assumption no longer stands the moment Johnny’s head leans forward just the tiniest bit, causing Mark’s fingers to tangle in his hair and Mark’s lips twist into a shy smile.

“Give me your phone.”

“Huh?”

“Give me your phone, please,” Johnny says, “before I change my mind.”

Donghyuck huffs, mumbling to Mark something about how age makes people arrogant that can only be chuckled at. He’s nothing but compliant, though, pulling his phone out of his pocket and sliding it towards Johnny’s outstretched hand. Mark catches him rubbing his index finger and thumb together, something like a nervous tick, maybe.

When Johnny is done it lands in Mark’s hands.

 

 

They part ways soon after that. Donghyuck proposes to go for milkshakes, and Johnny’s eyes light up hearing that, but the twinkle dies out at the reminder of academic responsibilities.

Mark doesn’t know how to feel. On one hand, such an extensive encounter with complete strangers is draining for him.

On the other hand, however, he doesn’t want it to end, not now, not yet. He feels like there are so many things he wasn’t able to find out about Donghyuck and Johnny, so many more stories they could have shared with him, so many playful arguments they could have had. Mark doesn’t know where the desire to share more about himself is rooted in, but he is surprised to find out he doesn’t regret any of it as he tends to.

He decides it’s for the better to have the rest of the afternoon to himself to reflect. But the moment Johnny goes in for a hug he has to bite his tongue before something he _will_ regret slips out.

The height difference between Mark and Johnny isn’t that big, but the way Johnny carries himself, envelops Mark in his arms, rubs Mark’s back, lets Mark lay his head on Johnny’s shoulder — it’s something else.

“See you soon?” Johnny asks, right before ending their embrace.

“Yeah,” is all Mark can manage, caught up in his head and the effect of déjà-vu. He catches Donghyuck looking at him — at them. Lips pursed, eyes determined, like he’s about to cause some trouble.

Next, he taps Johnny on the shoulder, more easily accessible as Johnny had apparently leaned down for Mark. It’s a gesture meant to remind them that Donghyuck is still there (though Mark is wholeheartedly sure they could never forget that).

“C’mere, big boy,” Donghyuck says. Johnny laughs, amusement and fondness radiating off him in waves.

If Mark felt small in Johnny’s arms, Hyuck looks positively _tiny_. But in contrast to that, it almost feels as though Johnny is the one being cradled. The younger’s head rests on Johnny’s chest — he must be able to hear his heartbeat, Mark supposes — and his arms are wrapped so tightly around Johnny it becomes questionable whether he can breathe. Donghyuck grins, but the mean edge is wiped off his face the moment Johnny squeezes him back by the shoulders.

He could kiss the top of Donghyuck’s head like this, Mark thinks. The image has him giddy in a way that’s a little different from how he felt hugging Johnny himself, but pleasant all the same.

Hugging Donghyuck, on the other hand, is a lot more comfortable in the traditional sense because he is barely half a head shorter. Their embrace is a little more careful than what Mark expected, but there is no disappointment in that observation. For a second or two, Mark’s mind is just delightfully... blank. All his neurons are so focused on the touch that he feels like he could melt away, if it weren’t for all the bones and muscles beneath his skin.

“You’ll text us, then?” Johnny makes sure.

“You’ll have to count on it,” Donghyuck says, his laughter deep and contagious, and takes his leave.

 

 *

 

Three days later, and Mark’s phone is still devoid of any messages.

None that aren’t from his parents or his coursemates, anyway. Because the moment he loses Hyuck and Johnny from his sight, his phone does ring. To nobody’s surprise, it’s Yukhei, the very friend who pushed Mark into signing up for the blind date to begin with. Yukhei is also known as Lucas, or as Mark’s surprisingly tidy dorm roommate.

“BRO,” Yukhei yells on the other side of the line. It’s a testament to how often he calls that Mark knows to hold his phone at a hand’s distance.

“Yeah, bro?”

“How did it go, bro?”

“Bro,” Mark sighs wistfully. “I hate to admit it, but… for once, you coerced me into something great.”

Yukhei laughs, his voice passing at least three different octaves. “I knew you’d have fun. So, who’s the lucky person?”

“Actually,” Mark says and looks up at the sky. It’s beautiful, clouds like rare dark grey specks in the sea of baby blues and lilacs. “Actually, there are two people.”

“Woah, what—”

“Let me tell you. Hm, where to start?”

“FROM THE BEGINNING.”

Mark does just that.

 

But, as his biggest supporter, Yukhei becomes his biggest annoyance, as well.

Every time they see each other — which is usually once in the morning or midday, depending on whether they have any errands to run because classes haven’t officially started yet, and once at night — Mark has to put up with Yukhei’s curiosity on why his dates haven’t messaged him yet. On day one it’s fine. On day two it makes Mark roll his eyes, but it’s still okay, because he has summer homework to finish and it does a good job at taking up all of his brain capacity.

On day three, it takes Mark a little longer to formulate a response.

“So the younger guy, Donghyung,” Mark silently corrects Yukhei, but doesn’t bother out loud. “He’s the one who has both of your numbers?”

“Correct.”

Yukhei stares off into the distance for a while. Frowns, rubs his cheeks the way he usually does when he’s frustrated. Then says: “Well, that’s just fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Mark starts, his fight or flight response activated. But the moment he meets Yukhei’s eyes, sensing the lack of judgement in them, he halts.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighs.

“What was the last thing he said to you guys?” Yukhei asks, trying to lift the mood up again.

Memories of the hugs flash through Mark’s mind, drawing a smile onto his face, before he remembers—

“He said we’d have to count on… count on getting a message.”

Yukhei sighs with him in pure, wholesome bro-solidarity. “I’m sorry, bro. Maybe he’s just a scammer by nature.”

“Don’t say that,” Mark pleads, resolved to see the best in one of the boys who insisted on making him feel comfortable and understood despite barely knowing him.

“Or, maybe—”

“Don’t. Don’t, please, please don’t finish that.”

Yukhei must sense the urgency in Mark’s voice, the distressed expression on his face that ensues whenever Mark is about to start overthinking. So he raises his hands to gesture that he’ll stop pushing the topic. Mark nods gratefully. In his mind, he’s already retreated to his room with a snack from their shared kitchenette, trying to brainstorm ideas for his summer videography project. (The keyword here being trying.)

Before he makes it there, though, Yukhei mumbles a soft, “Mark?”

“Hm?”

“Just so you know, whatever happens. It’s not your fault. Take it from someone who knows you tons better than either of those guys do. You’re amazing to spend time with.”

And goddammit, Mark knows Yukhei wants to make him feel better. Had he said this at any other time, it would’ve been balm for Mark’s admittedly humble ego. A reason to make one of the jokes they’re so fond of. (“Bro.” “Yes, bro?” “I wish I was your sock.” “Why, bro?” “So I could be with you every step of the way, bro.” “Awe, bro…” “Also, maybe you’d actually do your laundry then.”)

But right now, all it does is make tears well up in Mark’s eyes. Because even if he rationally knows that Yukhei is right, he can’t help but jump to the conclusion that this is one of his personal failures. That, maybe, Donghyuck has long since messaged Johnny, but left Mark’s contact details untouched on purpose. Maybe he’d read all of the signs wrong. Three people, all being interested in each other — how often does that happen?

It was a wonderful day, something sweet and bright to look back on. But maybe it was supposed to remain just that. Forever a one-time memory.

“Bro,” Mark says, and mentally pats himself on the back for how steady his voice sounds.

“Yes, bro?” Yukhei asks. Smiles at the gag he expects.

But it doesn’t come.

“Can I have a hug?”

Yukhei’s smile turns sad, but his eyes crinkle comfortingly. “Of course, dude.”

They end up watching whatever stupid shows all four of the TV channels they pay for decide to show, staying on the couch late into the night. They talk and laugh and eat so much that the moment Mark’s head hits his bed’s pillow, he can’t help but pass out.

 

He awakens rather unpleasantly.

“MARK. MARK, COME ON!”

“What?” Mark yells back, shooting upright. “Did you set something on fire again?”

“NOOOOO—”

“Then let me SLEEP!” And buries his face under the duvet, hoping to fall back asleep.

Of course, Mark is a good person. But apparently, all the little pranks he liked to play on his family as a child irreversibly stained his karma, because Yukhei barges into his room just moments later.

“Dude, Mark,” he says, considerably choosing to be a few decibels quieter. “You really have to wake up for this. I’ve been waiting for an hour or so, honestly, it’s got to be now.”

“What is it,” Mark replies unenthusiastically.

“Your phone.”

Yukhei makes an excited noise that sounds how Mark imagines a fish choking without water would be like. Is that even a real noise, or just a weird association his half-asleep brain chooses to come up with?

“What about it?”

“You have, like, ten new notifications. From a group chat you’ve been added to, just this morning!”

Mark chooses not to dignify that with a response, because he’s too tired to complain about Yukhei taking his phone without permission.

“Maaark,” Yukhei whines, shaking his shoulder. “It’s your boys. Johnny and Donghyung.”

At that, Mark promptly rolls out of bed so quickly he falls on the cold, hard floor.

Following that misfortune, his sweaty fingers mistype the pin code so many times that the phone locks itself for a torturous half hour. Obviously, Mark has to spend it chatting Yukhei’s ear off about everything and nothing, too nervous to stay still. Yukhei not only indulges him, but gets arguably more excited about the development in “his bro’s rollercoaster of a love life”. Mark shrugs it off, tries not to get his hopes up after days of radio silence.

But once his stomach is marginally full (no thanks to either of their cooking skills, but to the fact that Yukhei bothered to go out to stock up on breakfast food bright and early), Mark finds out that he isn’t being let down.

 

 **Unknown number (~ Haechan)** **_has added you to the group chat._ **

**Unknown number (~ Haechan)** **_has added Unknown number ( ~ John) to the group chat._ **

**Unknown number (~ Haechan)** **_has changed the group chat name to “ariana grande - let me love u ft. lil wayne”_ **

**Unknown number (~ Haechan)** _(9:23):_ remember me??

 **Unknown number ( ~ John)** _(9:50):_ Hyuck?

 **Unknown number (~ Haechan)** _(9:55):_ yess

 

 **Unknown number ( ~ John)** _(9:56):_ You sure took your sweet time ^^

 

 **Unknown number (~ Haechan)** _(9:59):_ yeah,, sorry about that

 **Unknown number (~ Haechan)** _(9:59):_ :( some stuff got in the way

 **Unknown number (~ Haechan)** _(10:00):_ but… i would really like to see you two again and i hope it’s not just me

 

Mark beams and saves the two numbers hurriedly, before typing a sincere “no, it’s definitely not just you”. Something about it seems a little _too_ sincere, so he decides to add a few letters.

 

 **Mark** _(10:15)_ : no, it’s definitely not just you hahaha

 

Immediately, the words _Donghyuck is typing…_ pop up. Mark’s heartbeat speeds up, equal parts anxiety and anticipation, and he exits out of the app like it burnt him, choosing to read Donghyuck’s message from the safety of his notification bar.

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:16)_ : mark!

 

Mark coos before realizing that it’s really just a couple pixels making up an exclamation mark he’s so endeared by.

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:16)_ : you type like a het

 

So much for endearments.

 

 **Johnny** _(10:17)_ : This slander oh my god

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:17)_ : ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ :)

 

 **Johnny** _(10:17)_ : Nope, definitely not just you. Even though the way you asked for my number didn’t leave the best impression

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:18)_ : you will never let me live this down will u

 

 **Mark** _(10:18)_ : never

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:18)_ : D:

 

 **Johnny** _(10:19)_ : Not to be too straightforward but when are you boys next free ;;

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:19)_ : :D

 **Donghyuck** _(10:19)_ : i have no plans for tomorrow if that’s not too soon??

 

 **Mark** _(10:20)_ : sounds good to me!

 

 **Johnny** _(10:20)_ : It’s a date then!

 **Johnny** _(10:20)_ : We could take a walk in my neighborhood, take pictures and get overpriced coffee if you want

 

 **Mark** _(10:21)_ : let’s do it!!

**_Message removed for everyone._ **

**Mark** _(10:21)_ : let’s do it!

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:21)_ : mark did you really delete a mssg over the amount of exclamation marks

 **Donghyuck** _(10:22)_ : … c*te

 

 **Johnny** _(10:22)_ : Oh boy do I wonder what that says...

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:22)_ : it says “johnny stop being a smartass”

 

 **Mark** _(10:23)_ : omfg

 **Mark** _(10:23)_ : kind of tempted to bring you some aloe vera tomorrow, hyung

 

 **Johnny** _(10:24)_ : Donghyuck I WILL put poison in your coffee, don’t try me

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:25)_ : come at me, big boy :*

 

 **Johnny** _(10:32)_ : Friendship ended with Donghyuck, now Mark is my best friend ([picture attachment](https://goo.gl/images/reqLhW))

 

 **Mark** _(10:32)_ : did you just make that…

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:32)_ : that’s what u left my kiss on read for?

 **Donghyuck** _(10:32)_ : i refuse to be friendzoned like this

 

 **Johnny** _(10:33)_ : It had to be done.

 

 **Mark** _(10:33)_ : hahaha you don’t know how happy i am right now to know a legend like you

 **Mark** _(10:34)_ : Toy bow shooting the text “Do you wanna be fucking loved?” ([picture attachment](https://goo.gl/images/dxMNNS))

 

 **Johnny** _(10:35)_ : Plankton with a heart in his outstretched arms with the text “Everything I have to offer” on it ([picture attachment](https://goo.gl/images/fCRmBw))

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:36)_ : changed my mind

 **Donghyuck** _(10:36)_ : not only does mark type like a het… johnny types like an edgy instagram memelord

 

 **Johnny** _(10:36)_ : What makes you think I’m NOT an edgy instagram memelord

 **Johnny** _(10:36)_ : Have I told you two about my MCR phase yet yeehaw

 

 **Mark** _(10:37)_ : NO?!

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:37)_ : KEEP IT

 

 **Mark** _(10:37)_ : welcome to the black parade > destiny’s child

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:37)_ : MARK!! LEE!!

 **Donghyuck** _(10:37)_ : had it not been for the laws of this land i would have already slaughtered you.

 

 **Johnny** _(10:38)_ : Bet you’ll change your mind after you see my smoking emo fringe

 **Johnny** _(10:38)_ : We can go through my photo album tomorrow

 **Johnny** _(10:38)_ : @Markle Screenshot of a male character from an anime with eyes closed in satisfaction, text beneath saying “Ah, I see you’re a man of culture as well” ([picture attachment](https://goo.gl/images/C8DrQS))

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:39)_ : the only reason i’m looking forward to seeing that is so i can make fun of u :^)

 **Donghyuck** _(10:39)_ : MARKLE SKDJSKDS

 

 **Johnny** _(10:39)_ : Mark* IDK WHAT MY AUTOCORRECT IS DOING

 

 **Mark** _(10:39)_ : IM-

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:40)_ : TOO LATE THE DAMAGE IS DONE

 **Donghyuck** _(10:40)_ : i’m changing ur name in my phone to markle

 **Donghyuck** _(10:40)_ : no “morkle” that’s better

 

 **Mark** _(10:41)_ : you can’t see it but there’s a single shameful tear rolling down my face

 

 **Johnny** _(10:41)_ : I’m so sorry

 **Johnny** _(10:41)_ : You know I never wanted to hurt you

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:42)_ : was this an hsm reference

 **Donghyuck** _(10:42)_ : pls say yes

 

 **Johnny** _(10:42)_ : :)

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:42)_ : i forgive you for all your cringy behavior in the past and in the future

 

 **Mark** _(10:42)_ : wow i can’t believe it’s that easy

 

 **Johnny** _(10:43)_ : :*

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:43)_ : ♡❣ღ❥

**_Message has been deleted._ **

 

 **Johnny** _(10:43)_ : Whyy

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:43)_ : the soundcloud rapper called me easy,, i have to save face

 

 **Mark** _(10:44)_ : planning my new diss track already >.<

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:44)_ : i’m cool with that if there’s like 1 line where u admit how c*te i am

 

 **Mark** _(10:44)_ : there may be… several lines on that

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:44)_ : :D :D

 

 **Johnny** _(10:45)_ : Not sure how much of a diss track that will be

 **Johnny** _(10:45)_ : But I’ll support it

 

 **Mark** _(10:45)_ : bro…

 

 **Johnny** _(10:46)_ : Bro…

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:46)_ : Lauren Jauregui of Fifth Harmony with a phone held against her forehead, the screen of which is filled with the LGBT flag and the word “GAY” [picture attachment](https://imgur.com/a/VMhJj2y))

 

 **Johnny** _(10:46)_ : A dog standing with its back to the camera, butt on display ([picture attachment](https://imgur.com/a/WD2faUK))

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:46)_ : JOHNNYDMSDJSDKSJDH

 

The next time Mark looks at the time — really looks at it, not just as a means of assessing how long Johnny took to alter yet another meme — it’s late evening, marking yet another day of zero progress on his videography project. The realization sinks in with a slight tinge of panic. Not as much because the deadline is creeping nearer, as there is still about a month to go, but because Mark just isn’t used to being so caught up in an online conversation that he loses track of time.

Something hopeful rises in his chest, though, thinking about how neither Johnny nor Donghyuck could stay away from the chat. For an hour or so, Donghyuck did have to leave because a friend called him to ask for advice, for his “erudition and exceptional emotional intelligence make him an expert in just about anything”. In that time it was just Johnny and him, but it was just as comfortable, reminiscing about their pasts.

Mark finds out that Johnny is, or was, a suburb boy just like him, hailing from somewhere near Chicago. They talk about soccer moms and heteronormativity and Girl Scouts or Girl Guides, the way they’re referred to in Canada. It’s nice to have someone to relate to, but more than that, Mark likes _the way_ their conversation flows and not what it revolves around. Johnny is funny, both in the meme-y and the regular type of way, and he seems to think the same of Mark.

Eventually, Donghyuck texts that they should be going to sleep soon.

 

 **Johnny** _(23:46)_ : I can’t tell if you’re being mature, a buzzkill, or both

 

 **Mark** _(23:46):_ :( :(

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:46):_ neither i’m just sleepy :(

 

 **Mark** _(23:47):_ okay you’re right

 **Mark** _(23:47):_ we’re gonna see each other tomorrow!

 

 **Johnny** _(23:47):_ Hell yes

 **Johnny** _(23:47):_ Come around whenever you wake up, I should be up by noon the latest

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:48):_ i’m kind of looking forward to it

 

 **Johnny** _(23:48):_ I’m kind of looking forward to it too :)

 **Johnny** _(23:48):_ Sleep well, you two ♡

 

 **Mark** _(23:48):_ goodnight to you both <3

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:49):_ Donghyuck saying “good night” in a cutesy voice, the kind you would use to talk to pets and babies and that is absolutely adorable (voice message)

 **Donghyuck** _(23:49):_ :^)

 

 **Johnny** _(23:50):_ D ONGHXUCK

 **Johnny** _(23:50):_ WHAT THR HELL

 

 **Mark** _(23:50):_ HE JUSTDID THAT AND KEFT

 

 **Johnny** _(23:50):_ THE NERVE

 **Johnny** _(23:50):_ Is this… what all the people who use uwu feel…

 

 **Mark** _(23:51):_ … must be.

 

 *

 

The next morning, Mark wakes up feels unusually rejuvenated.

His eyelids don’t feel like they’re made out of lead, his limbs don’t feel like they’d rather permanently become one with the bed than help him stand up. All in all, he feels like a Hollywood romcom protagonist who is ready to snag an apple slice from a full-to-the-brim breakfast table, and wave at his mother in passing before hurrying to start the day by driving to high school with a car he shouldn’t be able to afford at this age.

It’s an _amazing_ feeling. And what better way to preserve it than to blast some indie rock through the apartment without any regard for the neighbors?

Thus Mark goes through his short morning routine and his long exploration of the fridge headbanging, playing the air guitar, and having absolutely no regrets. All he thinks about is having a good time today. Getting to know the two boys better, ask all the questions he didn’t get to last time. He munches on a piece of bread, smiling absentmindedly. It’s one of these days that make you glad to have stayed alive, and it barely even started.

That all comes crashing down when Mark has half a mind to check the time.

“Eleven forty f— SHIT!”

He runs back into his room to turn off the speaker, almost throwing it out of the window by the virtue of it slipping out of his hands. His cellphone is nowhere to be found. Mark drops to his knees, checking under his bed, under the carpet, shaking the duvets. It somehow falls on his foot. The pain is so intense that Mark swears for as long as it takes for him to run out of English and Korean vocabulary, and venture into the little bit of Russian he picked up a while ago.

 

 **Donghyuck** _(07:32):_ good morning i feel EXTREMELY accomplished :^)

 

 **Johnny** _(09:10):_ Morning, Hyuck. What are you up so early for?

 

 **Donghyuck** _(09:10):_ so that i have enough time to get ready, duh

 

 **Johnny** _(09:12):_ Three hours to get ready?!

 **Johnny** _(09:12):_ Marty, I’m scared (picture attachment)

 

 **Donghyuck** _(09:12):_ i still remember your meticulously styled hair, you can’t fool me you prob take just as long

 

 **Johnny** _(09:12):_ Caught me.

 

 **Donghyuck** _(09:13):_ i’ll be off to get ready then, see you in a while uwu boy

 

 **Johnny** _(09:13):_ Nickname: refused. But excited to see: you both.

 

 **Donghyuck** _(09:13):_ <33

 

 **Donghyuck** _(11:00):_ i’m on my way!!

 

 **Johnny** _(11:03):_ :’) Shoot a text if you need directions

 **Johnny** _(11:04):_ Where is Mark at though?

 

 **Donghyuck** _(11:04):_ dunno :( i texted him an hour ago privately in case he turned off the notifs for our gc but he hasn’t read it yet

 

 **Johnny** _(11:04):_ Let’s hope he just overslept hmm

 

 **Donghyuck** _(11:04):_ i wouldn’t be surprised heh

 

 **Mark** _(11:50):_ STOP SLANDERING ME

 **Mark** _(11:50):_ ALTHOUGH I DESERVE IT I TOTALLY LOST TRACK OF TIME IM SORRY

 

 **Johnny** _(11:51):_ STOP YELLING IT’S OKAY

 **Johnny** _(11:51):_ Just come over whenever you can. Hyuck and I will be waiting

 

 **Donghyuck** _(11:51):_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

 **Johnny** _(11:51):_ Stop insinuating funny business!

 

 **Donghyuck** _(11:51):_ you’re not the boss of me johnathan

 

Mark chuckles at the exchange and pockets his phone, not before sending off one last message.

 

 ** _Private chat with_ B** **ro**

 

 **Mark** _(12:02):_ wherever you are, dude, cross your fingers for me.

 

The train is jam-packed, because of course it is.

Mark manages to take off the cardigan and wrap its sleeves around his hips inbetween stations without falling on his face, which is most definitely a success. He is forced to touch way more strangers than necessary. But at some point in his journey most of the passengers exit the train, so he gets to sit for the last three stations before Johnny’s house.

Sitting, unfortunately, means thinking.

He tries to distract himself by looking out of the window despite the risk of it seeming like he’s grumpily staring at an elderly woman’s side profile. The area the train is headed towards is a lot greener than the industrial district Mark stays in in order to be near his university. It’s all trees with wide branches and dark green leavery, the occasional rice field flickering through his vision. The observation leads to remembering Johnny’s text about his neighborhood being easy on the eyes as he suggested meeting up at his, and that leads to _thinking_ once more.

Mark is the last one to arrive. Johnny and Hyuck will have already spent a good hour together, talking, laughing (maybe at Mark and his naïveté and unpunctuality?). What if he feels entirely out of place despite their best efforts? What is he even doing here, on a train into a part of the town he’s never been to and a house he barely received an invitation for?

Then, his phone rings.

“Hello?”

_“Mark? Hey, it’s Johnny. Are you on your way?”_

Mark gulps, feeling nervous for some reason, as though he is answering to a teacher. “Yeah, yeah, course, I’m almost there. One station to go, I think.”

_“Awesome. Donghyuck and I are gonna go to the bakery in the meantime and pick you up at the station after. Do you want anything?”_

“Uh, no, I’m good. It’s okay.”

 _“Hope you’re not allergic to chocolate!”_ Hyuck’s voice resounds loud and clear, even though Johnny must be the one holding the phone.

The line goes dead.

 

 

The cacophony of trains stopping and tardiness announcements is apparently distracting enough for one not to notice two excited men speed-walking in one’s direction, Mark learns.

Before he knows it there they are, in the flesh, right in front of him. Donghyuck is dressed in a sophisticated looking turquoise coat that is most definitely too warm for today’s forecast. Johnny has a hand on his shoulder, striped sleeve matching Mark’s tee. Altogether they make Mark feel quite underdressed, but that thought dissolves into surprised chuckles at the sight of giant plastic bags hanging off their arms.

“What is all this?” he inquires, laughter squeezing its way through every syllable.

Johnny and Hyuck exchange a look that is hard to decipher and difficult to catch for Mark, who can’t stop laughing once he started. He knows it’s only partially because he’s amused. Mostly because he’s trying to get rid of the anxiety that built up in him, let go of it like untangling a balloon’s knot to send it flying across the room. But it sounds sincere enough. 

“We might have gone a little overboard with the food,” Johnny explains sheepishly, rolling his earlobe between his index finger and thumb.

“Supermarket was conveniently close to the bakery,” Donghyuck adds nonchalantly. He separates two of the smaller baggies from where their handles intertwine, digging into his exposed wrists. Mark quickly picks up on the hint and offers to take them.

Johnny’s eyes zero in on the brief touch of their hands with a cat-like smile. “Follow me, young padawans.”

He walks ahead at that, posture straight and tall, like he’s an experienced tour guide. Donghyuck and Mark stray behind for a little while, manoeuvring past people running to catch their train.

“You didn’t let him pay for everything, did you?” Mark asks quietly.

“No, of course not,” Donghyuck whisper-yells in response. “What do you think of me?”

Mark just laughs and lets their arms brush. They’ve passed the entrance of the station by now, and Johnny waits for them to catch up. On grounds of some unspoken agreement, Donghyuck steps to the left as Mark steps to the right, so Johnny can easily walk in the middle. A few minutes of comfortable silence pass by.

“So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Well, I happen to know a nice park nearby where we can sit down and consume all this,” Johnny says, pointing to the bags. “I have my camera with me and Donghyuck’s speaker, and as we walk, you two can tell me anything that might have happened since we last saw each other.”

 _Domestic_ , Mark catches himself thinking.

“I’ll start then,” Donghyuck says. Not before making eye contact with Mark to verify he wasn’t about to go first. “I am pretty much done analyzing this stupid essay written on Freud’s stupid defense mechanisms. Expressing your opinion based on someone else’s opinion is exactly as fascinating as you’d think it’d be.”

“And yet you did it, and ahead of the deadline, too, I presume,” Johnny notes.

“It’s due in a few days, actually,” Donghyuck chuckles nervously. “Not sure why my professor wants to spend his last weeks before having to put up with us again reading ten pages of pretentiousness per student, but.”

“That’s kind of making me feel better about procrastinating my project,” Mark chimes in. “It’s this extremely freeform type of thing, so I’m kind of stressed about not having any guidelines to go by.”

“I hear you. That’s basically what doing your Masters is like.”

“If that’s true, I’d rather not do it at all.”

“Noo,” Johnny whines, “don’t let me scare you off. I do enjoy it a lot, I really do. It’s always hard before you really dive into it.”

Donghyuck hums, not fired up enough to argue. “Any ideas for the project yet, Mark?”

Both of them are looking his way now expectantly. Mark convinces himself that whatever he feels in his stomach is the gnawing of hunger.

“I figured a short film would be my best shot, since animation isn’t my most favorite thing in the world. Just something… something introspective with people, looking at them from different perspectives, maybe. Not a lot of music. With an open end.”

“Sounds very fake deep,” Johnny says.

Mark blinks once, twice. “Hyung!” Donghyuck yells.

“But the kind of fake deep I’m into! Like, the kind that we all need from time to time to make us feel more important than we actually are, as one human being in the vastness of the universe.”

“Okay, you get a pass, but I’m going over to Mark,” Donghyuck decides. Indeed, he gives Johnny’s arm a warning pat and skips forward to walk on Mark’s right. “Look at his puppy face. You just stomped all over the fire of his cinematographic passion.”

Johnny makes an _extremely_ distressed noise.

“I didn’t mean to, honestly! It was supposed to be a compliment, but it came out backwards. I really do like watching stuff like that. Come on, sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I turn on a jazz playlist on Spotify and read French poetry I can barely understand. My judgement is irrelevant now that you know that.”

“It’s okay. It’d take a lot more than you calling me ‘fake deep’ to put out ‘the fire of my cinematographic passion’,” Mark snickers, gently pushing Donghyuck and his grabby hands away. Donghyuck pouts and pretends to sulk. But he gives it up pretty quickly after Mark’s caress to his elbow.

He must not take it personally, because he doesn’t abandon Mark, but switches to his left instead, to be in the middle.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Johnny insists, looking Mark’s way with impossibly big, apologetic eyes. “You can have all my snacks. And take an uncomfortably close shot of my nostrils for your documentary, if you’d like.”

Mark laughs, his nose scrunching up and his voice breaking, but he can’t find in him to care. Coming down, Johnny’s fond and simultaneously relieved expression etches itself on the inside of his eyelids.

“Say yes,” Donghyuck theatrically whispers into Mark’s ear. Johnny shrugs his shoulders, as though letting them know that he won’t mind embarrassing himself for Mark’s forgiveness.

“Okay. I’ll put on some Louis Armstrong as BGM, if you’d prefer that.”

“Mark Lee, you are a genius,” Johnny exclaims, hitting himself in the face with one of the bags.

 

The rest of the walk goes a little something like this.

Mark allows himself to be quiet for a bit, observing the narrow streets they walk past, the colorful houses and crooked trees. A few dogs walk past them and Donghyuck immediately stops to call out to them. Over the course of the next half hour they keep score of who can get to pet the most dogs, Johnny being the clear winner despite Donghyuck’s enthusiasm and Mark’s carefulness. They argue over which dog looked most like Donghyuck, all until Mark spots a squirrel, its small and fiery orange form definitely bearing a certain likeness.

Johnny takes out his camera, half-focused on taking shots of angry Donghyuck trying to argue his way out of being compared ‘to a rodent’, half explaining to Mark the differences between his Canon and the camera Mark has at home. Donghyuck pleads for them to stop calling him squirrel. So Johnny promises they will, on the condition of him showing them some aegyo.

“I would honestly rather choke on that squirrel’s tail and climb six feet under.”

“What is your deal with squirrels,” Mark wheezes out, before inconsiderately being whacked in the face with Donghyuck’s pretty coat.

“Come on,” Johnny insists, “just two sentences. We can turn around, if it’s easier.”

“You know damn well neither of you will do that,” Hyuck deadpans.

“We won’t,” Mark agrees.

The youngest sighs like his own funeral is about to start. Regardless, he complies, rambling about wanting to eat and for the humiliation to end in a baby voice. For longer than necessary, too, maybe because he notices how much Johnny and Mark are endeared by it. Mark simply sees no reason to hide it from someone as observant, and Johnny seems to be content with wearing his heart on the sleeve, as well.

Later, as the three settle down on Johnny’s ratty blanket, legs stretched out on the grass, a hand brushes another.

“I got it all on camera,” Johnny mouths to Mark, Donghyuck busying himself with unpacking the snacks. “The sound, anyway.”

“Thank you,” Mark mouths back. He’s not sure what he’s grateful for, but it seems like Johnny knows more than he does, intertwining their fingers and squeezing with a grin.

Needless to say that when Donghyuck starts whining in faux annoyance about them ‘being affectionate without each other’ and promptly plops his head in Johnny’s lap, none of them mind, anyway.

 

For the rest of the day they eat, talk, bask in the surprisingly summery sun. Their picnicking spot is right by a fountain, so eventually they begin splashing each other with water, too.

Donghyuck proposes to hit up a vinyl shop that is supposed to be nearby.

“I feel like I’m betraying my fake deep brand,” Mark says, fingers dancing over the giant covers to look through all of them quickly. “So many artists I’ve never even heard of.”

“Canada, man,” Donghyuck sighs and shakes his head dramatically.

“Hey, guys, c’mere,” Johnny calls out. He’s somewhere further in the heart of the store, vinyls lining the walls from ceiling to floor. Mark mentally calculates from what angle he would film them.

“There’s Oasis, and Pink Floyd. All the good stuff.”

“Stop talking like a broke weed dealer!” Donghyuck reprimands, so loud that his voice carries over from where he’s looking through old Hallyu releases.

Mark slaps a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his laughter as quiet as possible. Where the idea of some stranger manning the store associating him with the words just yelled would have been mortifying in any other situation, he finds himself feeling dopey, instead.

Walking over to the elder, Mark finds him rolling his eyes, mumbling ‘This kid’ under his breath. Offering a soft pat on his waist feels natural, and so is the way Johnny leans into it with a gummy smile.

“Hey, Hyuck,” Mark takes a vinyl out of its spot on the shelf. “Isn’t this—”

“MICHAEL JACKSON!”

Donghyuck runs, his hair bouncing like a puddle’s freshly washed fur.

“Mark, you’re a sweetheart,” he states, and lands a wet smooch on his supposed hero’s cheek, before sashaying off in the direction of the only worker here.

Johnny giggles, slapping the Pink Floyd vinyl and Mark’s shoulder in frequent intervals.

“Error 404, Mark’s system just crashed.”

“That— that’s not what error 404 means,” Mark retorts to his best ability. “And anyway, can you believe this guy? He’s so infuriating—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny interrupts, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leading them closer to the exit.

They find Donghyuck standing at the Ikea desk turned cash counter with the Jackson 5 vinyl and a wallet in his hands.

“Keep him company for a bit, will you? I need to make a phone call,” Johnny says then, removing his arm from around Mark.

“Sure— JOHNNY!”

Johnny is out of the store before Mark can call him infuriating for kissing him on the cheek, too.

 

With noticeably less plastic bags and one big vinyl, they stroll through the streets of Johnny’s neighborhood, no destination in mind.

The speaker alternates from being connected to all three phones, because “hey, I think you guys would like this song,” and “if you dare tell me this song is bad, I will delete both of your numbers”. Eventually, they settle on listening to Sunmi’s new album via Donghyuck’s threat disguised as a recommendation. Mark watches wondrously as both Johnny and Donghyuck go down on their knees on the hard asphalt to bust out some of the choreography to Siren, and they, all together, sing along despite not knowing most of the lyrics.

The summer sun goes down, making way for the truly autumnal evening with its cool breeze. They don’t mind: in fact, Donghyuck looks like a cat who caught the canary once he can wear his coat again. Mark catches Johnny’s eyes, sharing a smile of mutual understanding. Johnny then tells Donghyuck how lovely the coat looks on him, and Donghyuck’s ears turn bright pink. Mark realizes that it’s revenge for him finding the Jackson 5 vinyl, even though Johnny found the USA section to begin with, and decides to one-up Johnny by telling Donghyuck how much he likes his make-up.

“I bet you couldn’t even tell an eyeliner apart from an eyebrow pen,” Donghyuck scoffs in response.

(But the tone in which he says it sounds nothing short of extremely pleased.)

The sun begins to set for good. The sky’s pallette is quite tame this time around, but the way the buildings and their faces reflect the last sun rays is still something to marvel at. Johnny takes so many photos — ones with Mark’s back against the darkening clouds, ones of Hyuck looking contentedly up in the sky, eyes closed.

Mark hesitates to ask Johnny for his camera, knowing how expensive it is and how important it must be to him, but Johnny simply smiles, takes it off and puts the band around Mark’s neck himself.

“Come on, Hyuckie, let’s pose,” he yells, holding a hand out for the younger to take.

Mark remembers where to press to record a video.

 

“Let me walk you to the station,” Johnny offers.

Neither Mark nor Donghyuck have any objections. It’s close to 10 pm, darkness enveloping the trio and the greenery around them. Johnny makes the suggestion for a sleepover, but they all know it’s a little too early for that, even if the idea sounds very appealing. So they decide to end the day on a bang, passing a ginger beer back and forth with Hyuck’s speaker playing quietly in Johnny’s backpack.

“This song is so trippy,” Mark says. They walk past a row of bushes, so he stretches his hand out and lets his hand tangle in the leaves.

“Until now, I was thoroughly convinced that ginger beer has no alcohol in it. But I’m not so sure anymore,” Johnny muses. Donghyuck laughs, nodding in approval.

“‘M not drunk,” Mark protests. “Just tired.”

“Poor baby,” Donghyuck coos. Mark’s cheek is being pinched, but he can’t find in him to shrug the affectionate boy off again. Johnny speeds up to walk on his other side, taking his cold hand and rubbing his knuckles to warm it up.

“You’re smothering me.”

“Do you mind?”

“No. I kinda like it,” Mark says so quietly it borders on a whisper. He instantly feels a little lighter.

Maybe it’s just the atmosphere of a foreign neighborhood at night, illuminated only by a half moon, two boys by his side that he may or may not be falling for.

Donghyuck instantly makes a triumphant noise, so Mark has to add: “But I’d like to be warned next when you decide to share your spit with me.”

“Sharing spit? Oh sweetie, you don’t know half of it.”

“Stop scarring him, Hyuck.”

“He asked for a warning and I gave him one!”

Johnny sighs in resignation, choosing instead to pet Mark’s hair.

They walk some more in silence. The main street that leads to the station is in plain sight now, a completely different world from their serene bubble, with its lanterns and racing cars.

“You know, since we all drank from the same bottle, you’ve already had both our spit in your mouth,” remarks Donghyuck, the nonchalance dripping sugary sweet from his high-pitched voice.

“Hyuck, that’s enough—”

What happens is unexpected not only to Johnny, who is frozen off to the side, or Donghyuck, but to Mark himself, who is the actual perpetrator of the whole thing. As if on autopilot, guided by some kind of subconscious need he grabs Hyuck’s face, one hand per cheek, and kisses him smack on the lips. Tries to, anyway, because admittedly his aim is kind of shit. But with how determinedly he presses their mouths together, he’s sure his point has been made.

They part in a matter of moments, because Donghyuck is too surprised to reciprocate and Mark’s boldness evaporates along with his exhaustion as he realizes what he’s done.

There it is. A make-or-break moment. Where reactions can no longer be predicted, are left only to the hands of fate.

Or, to the reliable hands of Johnny.

Because he says: “That was cute. Real cute. Ten out ten, would watch again.”

The mood is effectively lightened. Mark laughs loudly, as does Donghyuck, who manages a quiet ‘creep’, but Johnny doesn’t even bother reacting to it. The pink that was earlier coloring his ears now comes to the surface of Donghyuck’s cheeks.

Mark’s heart is still in his mouth (for more reasons than one), but he thinks he might not have made that big of a mistake, after all.

They pass a playground, Donghyuck commenting that that’s where they should have gone seeing as Johnny and Mark are a pair of overgrown babies. That’s when it is for sure that he hasn’t messed it up just yet.

(Just to spite Donghyuck, Johnny takes Mark by the hand and pulls him to run across the street right after the light turns red. Apparently, Donghyuck is even more skilled with swear words than Mark thought himself to be.)

But when they stand on the platform, there is no more time to prolong. Johnny frets to make sure they both know how to get home — they start off on the same train, but Hyuck has to exit earlier to catch a connecting bus — until Mark considers shutting him up with a kiss, too. He ultimately decides he’s done enough reckless things for one day.

“Send a text into the groupchat once you’re home, alright? If either of you forgets I will be mad, big time,” Johnny demands, shaking a finger for emphasis.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘worried’,” bites back Donghyuck. Mark snickers behind his palm.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetie pie,” Johnny retorts, eyebrows raised, smile small but sincere.

It’s so interesting to observe them, Mark realizes, their banter so much more different than Donghyuck and his, Johnny usually choosing to take his side than add fuel to the fire. Their tongues never dull, yet they never cut each other even skin deep, affection and fondness just under the surface. Objectively speaking, it might be a lot easier than the push-and-pull that’s establishing itself between Donghyuck and him, but Mark finds he doesn’t feel that way at all.

Most importantly, there’s no more jealousy burning in his gut as he thinks about them, just the two of them, together. He doesn’t want to feel left out, of course. But just like he knew not to forget Donghyuck when Johnny hugged him last time, deep down, he knows they wouldn’t forget him, either.

Wherever this thing may be going, after today Mark is close to being sure that it’s gonna be the three of them. Unchangingly.

“Okay,” Johnny sighs out. “I can hear the train, I won’t hog you any longer.”

This time, Mark decides to be the one to initiate the hug. It may be just his imagination, but it almost feels like their bodies mold closer, fit better this time around. He clutches Johnny’s shirt in his hands just a little bit, wanting to hold on just a little longer. Nothing is said. But Johnny makes a content noise, rumbling from his chest, that makes Mark’s hairs stand up beneath the material of his cardigan.

Offhandedly, he notes that Johnny really, _really_ reminds him of a cat.

He almost wants to scratch behind his ear. Instead, he goes on the tips of his toes and sneaks a kiss just above Johnny’s jaw. A silent promise for more.

Mark zones out a little bit while Donghyuck and Johnny hug goodbye. But then they part, and Donghyuck turns around, asking softly:

“Mark. Do you mind if we…?”

“Do I mind if you wh— oh. No,” Mark shakes his head rapidly, heat creeping to his cheekbones.

Johnny chuckles softly, but his face turns carefully neutral right after. Mark takes a step to the side to be able to see his face better. Soberingly, he realizes that Johnny is… nervous.

Despite that, he leans down readily, so that Donghyuck doesn’t have to hurt his neck too much. Their lips meet, then, fitting together quite nicely, in Mark’s objective opinion. From a scientific standpoint, their height difference and the way their eyelashes flutter in unison could be considered cute. How they part and Johnny goes in for another peck, it looks a little bit like the kissing scenes from some PG-13 movie. Not bad at all.

Who is he trying to kid? Mark’s heart pounds in a goddamn staccato at the sight before him. He begins to understands Johnny’s remark from before: although it was just two chaste pecks, they bear a lifetime’s worth of reflections. He doesn’t want to think about how he’s going to calm his mind enough to fall asleep tonight.

(Distantly, Mark registers that he would like to kiss them both, too, but just _watching_ is a sensation so new it feels almost as satisfying.)

“Bye, babies,” Johnny says, scrunching his face up as if he’s going to cry.

“Bye, bigger baby,” Donghyuck says, sticking his tongue out and simultaneously lifting Mark’s arm to wave at Johnny with it.

Mark smiles so wide his cheeks feel sore.

The train arrives.

 

 *

 

“Walk with me. I want a spot by the window.”

Mark follows Donghyuck without any complaints. He walks behind him, fully expecting Donghyuck to take his hand or link their arms, but there is too much distance between them for that. Donghyuck is far ahead, checking for empty beer bottles under seats and squeezing past suitcases and baby trollers.

Finally, a place devoid of people is found. It’s a two by two, with two seats each mirroring each other, and Donghyuck stands still, so Mark knows this is where he wants to sit. But he hasn’t done it yet.

“After you,” is murmured.

“Oh, okay.”

Mark is more than a little confused by Hyuck’s standoffish behavior, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it just yet. Instead, he plops down in one of the seats closer to the exit.

Donghyuck takes the seat diagonal from him, staying true to wishing to be by the window.

Mark blinks a couple times. He isn’t sure if there’s more to it than just Donghyuck wanting to have more space for his legs, the ones currently bouncing up and down to a beat Mark cannot hear. Isn’t sure if there’s a way for him to bring it up without the possibility of being laughed at for making an elephant out of a mouse, like he experienced many times before.

But he doesn’t know how to make conversation like this, either, with Donghyuck’s face stone-cold and turned away from him in favor of the dots of convenience store lights and neon bright advertisements.

Then, they meet eyes in the reflection of the window. Barely a second passes, before Donghyuck jumps out of his seat, grabs his vinyl and switches to the one next to Mark.

“Hey, Mark,” quietly.

“What’s up?”

“Can I… put my head on your shoulder?”

Mark lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, Hyuck, you can."

The younger does just that. Some time passes, when an almost silent chuckle resounds from his chest, one Mark can feel more than he can hear.

So Donghyuck demands: “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“My name.”

“Donghyuck?”

“No, no,” he chuckles again. Mark allows himself to move just the tiniest amount, to try and decipher Donghyuck’s request better.

Donghyuck looks up at him in that moment. There’s a scattering of moles on his cheek that Mark hasn’t paid attention to yet, one of them sitting alluringly on his throat. They can’t read each other’s eyes, not yet, but Mark remembers what he said before.

“Hyuck,” his lips form. Donghyuck’s head moves in a barely noticeable nod. “Hyuck. Hyuckie.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, his voice quet still.

Something seems to shift in him, then, because he repeats it, louder, more confident, and rummages in his jeans’ pocket to take out his earphones and offer one to Mark.

Once the music starts playing, Donghyuck returns his head to its previous position. “Sorry, I was just thinking. And you looked like a child that just got its favorite toy taken away,” he half-scoffs, half-giggles.

“And you looked constipated,” Mark retorts. They laugh, and Mark understands not to push if Donghyuck doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” but, apparently, he does.

“Is this about earlier, when I shrugged you off?”

“Kind of? Not really. Don’t feel bad or anything,” Donghyuck assures. “You don’t have to accept every time I latch onto you. You did let me pinch your cheek, so I’m satisfied.”

Mark presses his lips together. The guitar riffs in his right ear put him at ease. For a second, he wonders if Donghyuck chose the song on purpose because of some psychological effect it might have. However, as he takes a few moment to listen closer to the melody, he recognizes the chords to ‘Thriller’. His heart skips a couple of beats in realization, but it’s not the right time to analyze that.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable. A little… overwhelmed, sure. Most things have that effect on me, honestly,” Mark says, hoping it comes off as a joke.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, which is the one hundred percent desired reaction.

“But. Just because I take a little bit longer to warm up to you physically, that doesn’t mean I hate you or anything like that. I’m generally not really fond of initiating that kind of stuff.”

“I understand,” Donghyuck says through the finger between his teeth. “I figured that’s what it was. It’s good to hear it directly from you, though.”

“I can put in a bit more effort, if you’d like—”

“There’s no need to go all self-sacrificing on me, Morkle. Go at your own pace, whatever feels right for you, yeah? If I’m seriously bothered later on, I’ll let you know and we can have another one of those mature adult conversations about it.”

Mark snorts. “Good talk, Hyuckie.”

Donghyuck hums in response. His face expression clears up like the sky after rain. He seems to be about to change the topic to something superficial for the rest of the ride, but one more comment has to be made on Mark’s part.

“So you worry, too, huh?”

Mark’s shoulder feels oddly cold, as Donghyuck lifts his head. It’s one of those situations where you only realize you liked something when it’s gone. The way they sit now, though, bodies fully facing each other — Donghyuck even puts his leg up to be able to turn further to the side — is all the better.

“I do, yes,” he laughs, voice deep. Mark’s eyes unintentionally stray to the mole on his Adam’s apple. “Over the silliest things sometimes.”

“Did you worry about being alone with Johnny, then?”

The question has been on Mark’s mind ever since he did his best to let go of the fear of feeling left out due to being late (amongst other things).

For the first time since the train departed, that lively twinkle returns to Donghyuck’s eyes. “You have _no_ idea.”

“Tell me,” Mark challenges.

“First of all, I was absolutely pissed at you for abandoning me like that. We were supposed to be in it together. Mr Biceps tag team, remember?” Donghyuck continues right away, seeing as Mark isn’t very responsive when in the middle of a laughing fit. “I was so nervous I completely forgot about the photo album he offered to show. Felt like I was born yesterday with no interesting facts hidden away in my brain, no dazzling personality, and no sense of humor.”

“Damn, ma, is it that serious?”

“This is a verbal conversation.”

“My bad,” but Hyuck is right to assume he doesn’t actually feel bad, as he receives a shove to the thigh. “But… it didn’t go that badly, did it?”

“Not in the slightest. He made me a cup of coffee and added a shitload of sugar without even asking. I tried to tickle him and he wrestled me into the ground. When we sat on the couch to watch the news my feet got cold, so he let me tuck them under his thighs. Go ahead, say it!”

“That is. Effing adorable,” Mark grants.

“I knooow,” Donghyuck whines. “We discussed our moronic friends and your dumb cheekbones.”

“What in the world is wrong with my cheekbones?”

“Nothing. They’re pretty and you’re dumb.”

Mark isn’t sure if he’s pretending to be flustered for the theatrics or if he actually is.

They talk about their plans for the rest of the week. Mark narrates what living with Yukhei is like, while Donghyuck talks about his own roommate named Jaemin, who is an even bigger cuddle monster than Donghyuck himself. Nothing is off limits now that the air has been cleared about their physical boundaries: worst kissing experiences, weirdest stranger encounters, the celebrities that made them reconsider their sexuality. Eventually, their hands land next to each other on the seats, fingers creeping closer, closer—

“This is me,” Donghyuck exclaims and gets up, monotone announcement bringing Mark back to the reality in which he has to part with both of the boys once more.

He helps Hyuck roll his earphones into a semi-neat ball. The turquoise coat wooshes around him like a magical cape, and Mark can’t help but laugh.

“What are you giggling at?” he asks, holding onto Mark’s shoulder as the train slows down.

“You.”

“Whatever, Morkle. Listen to ‘Redbone’ when you watch me leave.”

“You deserve something more indie than that,” Mark decides, taking Hyuck’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to one of the knuckles. Donghyuck freezes in place. “Hurry, you’ll miss your bus!”

Pushing him towards the now opening doors, Mark plops back down in his seat with a heavy, but very, very content sigh.

 

 **_Private chat with_ ** **Donghyuck**

 

 **Donghyuck** _(10:20):_ mark

 **Donghyuck** _(10:21):_ mark

 **Donghyuck** _(10:22):_ morkle where are u

 **Donghyuck** _(10:30):_!!!!!!!!!!!!

...

 **Donghyuck** _(23:03):_ get home safe, you insufferable smooth fucker

 

 **_Private chat with_ ** **Bro**

 

 **Yukhei** _(12:30)_ : have fun dude be yourself show off ur cute nose scrunch!!

 

 **_Group chat with_ ** **Donghyuck, Johnny**

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:07)_ : i’m home

 

 **Mark** _(23:12)_ : me too!

 

 **Johnny** _(23:13)_ : My longest yeah boy ever

 **Johnny** _(23:13)_ : Btw Hyuck I think you left your speaker in my backpack :(

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:13)_ : :^)

 

 **Mark** _(23:14)_ : this isn’t the 19th century, you don’t have to drop your tissue to get a man’s attention

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:14)_ : bold of u to assume i want the attention of a man who smacked himself in the face with his bakery purchases

 

 **Johnny** _(23:14)_ : Understandable, have a good day

 **Johnny** _(23:14)_ : Mark, what are your plans for next week?

 

 **Mark** _(23:14)_ : nothing in particular so far, i’m down for whatever

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:14)_ : what about mE

 

 **Johnny** _(23:15)_ : What about you :)

 **Johnny** _(23:15)_ : Keep next Saturday free for me will you? @Mark

 

 **Mark** _(23:15)_ : what’s on saturday :P

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:15)_ : excuse-moi, c’est très shameless >.<

 

 **Johnny** _(23:16)_ : Sorry love, I don’t speak baguette

 **Johnny** _(23:16)_ : But I’m assuming you were asking for my forgiveness so I will kindly wait for you to translate

 **Johnny** _(23:16)_ : Oh and I can’t tell you what’s on Saturday yet, you’re gonna have to be there to find out

 

 **Mark** _(23:16)_ : didn’t you literally admit to reading french poetry :/

 

 **Johnny** _(23:16)_ : I DID SAY I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF IT

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:16)_ : ur gonna have to try harder than leaving me out of going to a bar or smth to get me to beg

 

 **Johnny** _(23:16)_ : Smart move

 **Johnny** _(23:17)_ : What if I told you it’s an outing to one of the hottest clubs in town where I can get you into every VIP area?

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:17)_ : i may or may not be listening

 

 **Mark** _(23:17)_ : oh damn, i haven’t gone clubbing in so long

 

 **Johnny** _(23:17)_ : If you’re not comfortable with that - just say the word, we can figure out something else to do

 **Johnny** _(23:17)_ : I thought it could be fun. You could probably meet some of my friends, too

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:17)_ : have these friends of yours known you through your emolord phase?

 

 **Johnny** _(23:17)_ : … I can neither confirm nor deny

 

 **Mark** _(23:18)_ : what the hell, the semester starts soon

 **Mark** _(23:18)_ : i might as well get wasted while i still can

 

 **Johnny** _(23:18)_ : No!!

 **Johnny** _(23:18)_ : You’re not drinking yourself into a coma on my watch!!!!

 **Johnny** _(23:18)_ : Hyuck and I will monitor your alcohol intake

 **Johnny** _(23:18)_ : No accepting drinks from strangers

 **Johnny** _(23:18)_ : No pills or other unknown substances

 

 **Mark** _(23:18)_ : stop babying me i’m an adult >:(

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:18)_ : please keep babying him i’m living for it

 **Donghyuck** _(23:18)_ : a big baby babying a smoler baby

 **Donghyuck** _(23:18)_ : and i’m sorry i was mean to you uwu boy please accept my sincere apology :*

 

 **Johnny** _(23:19)_ : Shh I know it’s all in good fun :*

 **Johnny** _(23:19)_ : … At least until you get your hands on any embarrassing pictures of me

 

 **Mark** _(23:19)_ : tbh i’m not that interested in emo phase pictures but you were probably so cute as a kid

 

 **Donghyuck** _(23:19)_ : new mission unlocked!

 **Donghyuck** _(23:19)_ : find johnny’s baby pictures (+200 xp)

 

 **Johnny** _(23:19)_ : OVER MY GRAVE!!!!

 

 

Before Thursday night comes, though, Mark calls in an impromptu hangout at a coffeeshop. Johnny and Hyuck march through the door weighed down by books, folders and other studying utensils, and they just sit at a table and work on their respective projects. Quiet conversation settles in from time to time when one of them wants an opinion on something, or when the material won’t quite sink in so a break is needed. They sip on their drinks, Mark bursting into hysteric giggles at Donghyuck’s facial expression and Johnny can’t help but do the same.

Once Johnny’s camera connects with Mark’s laptop to transfer a copy of the photos and videos he had taken of them, the focus on studying kind of goes out of the window, but it’s an hour before the coffeeshop’s closing time, anyway. They experiment with adjustments in Johnny’s illegally downloaded, outdated version of Photoshop (“DJing pays well, but not _that_ well.”), successfully deep frying a photo of Donghyuck cheesing at something behind the camera.

On their way home, they make the impulsive decision to go inside a small florist shop two streets away.

“Look at this,” Mark says. “The language of flowers.”

Indeed, on the wall, there hangs a poster with a dozen names of flowers, illustrations and their meanings. The drawings are done in the style of a sketch with a splash of color for identification purposes, with the descriptions scribbled down to the side. Hushed, soft music plays. Johnny’s hand finds its way to the hair on Mark’s nape, playing with it idly.

“What flower would you pick for me?” he questions, voice deep and careful, cut out for a historical drama.

Scanning the poster and all the gorgeous, colorful flowers, Mark’s eyes settle on a tiny annotation in the corner. Eyes full of mirth and leaning into Johnny’s warm touch, he comes to a conclusion: “A fern.”

Johnny is nothing if not absolutely appalled.

“What the hell, Mark? Is fern even a flower— it’s just a bunch of green stocked up in a pile! The nerve. Donghyuck-ah, did you hear—”

“Fern: magic, fascination,” Mark reads calmly. “Confidence. Shelter.”

The amount of time it takes Johnny to stop his little temper tantrum is remarkable. Mark snickers at his dumbfounded face as he points the text out on the banner.

“Well, I suppose that’s not so bad. I could do with a little fern.”

“Then let’s go get you some fern, bro.”

“Oh, don’t call me bro after indirectly saying I feel like shelter to you. That just won’t do.”

“Sorry.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you,” Johnny frowns, bringing his face closer to Mark’s. “Say it again?”

Mark giggles, feeling heat rush into his ears at the proximity, but it’s pleasant. He doesn’t know what Johnny will do next — doesn’t know when all three of them are gonna stop tiptoeing around the line between casual and serious, but the unknown doesn’t make him so nervous anymore. The only way to finish the game is to win, after all. And though the idea of a completely new commitment besides university, visiting his parents once a month and keeping his side of the dorm clean scares him, the best he can do is not to scream before the jump and just let things develop at their own pace.

Fortunately for the zoo in Mark’s stomach, all Johnny does is boop his nose before retreating, whispering something about trying to find yellow tulips for Hyuck.

“There’s sunshine in your smile,” the poster reads.

“Damn right,” Mark thinks, and mentally makes a note to buy two of them next time.

 

They decide to go to the club even though it’s the Saturday before uni starts again. The justification is the following: they can sleep through all of Sunday and, hopefully, feel all energized and ready to dive headfirst into their respective majors.

When Donghyuck says that during their group Skype call (have mercy on Mark’s Android), Johnny just chuckles nervously and excuses himself to go to the toilet for at least ten minutes.

“You think something is up, too?” Donghyuck wants to know. He’s perched on a pile of pillows, head hanging off the bed, sweater paws swinging back and forth. The candle lighting makes him look soft yet pensive, serious.

“Definitely,” there’s no way around it. There were little signs scattered throughout the studying session at the coffeeshop, in the daily group chat conversations. Where Mark or Donghyuck would happily chatter about something to do with their education, Johnny would take on a rather passive, empathetic role, asking questions and avoiding answers of his own.

“I’m glad it’s not just my imagination. But I really don’t think we should push it unless hyung wants to talk about it.”

Mark looks down at his crossed knees and takes a moment to think.

“He doesn’t strike me as the type to deny something when being confronted head-on.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He would probably just shut himself out completely.”

“How do you know that?”

Donghyuck sighs.

“Just going off how I’d react in such a situation.”

They make a pact to do their best to cheer Johnny up and take his mind off the stress, excitedly talking about future trips to the aquarium, cinema, festivals.

“Would… would you guys wanna go stargazing at some point, too?” Johnny questions, hesitance visibly squeezing his throat like a vine.

A teasing remark about Johnny’s highly alternative preferences lies on Mark’s tongue, but he doesn’t let it slip out.

“Of course, baby,” Donghyuck agrees easily. A smile blooms on Johnny’s face from where it’s half-pressed into his pillow, skin dewy after his night routine (“We love a man who takes care of his skin,” Hyuck had remarked).

“I’ve been interested in them since I was a child. Had all these books, binge-watched documentaries whenever I could. I could probably name most of the constellations by heart.”

“That’s so cool. We would probably have to drive a ways out of town to see the stars properly, but I’m totally down for it.”

“Okay,” Johnny chuckles, endeared by Mark’s enthusiasm. “We’ll do that, then. Hyuckie, did you know that you actually have a constellation on your face?”

Donghyuck hums curiously.

“It’s true. I was looking at the photos again. If you take the seven moles on your cheek and throat and put them together, you get the Ursa Minor. Little Dipper.”

“Isn’t it supposed to look like a little bear?” Mark throws in, reminded of childhood encyclopedia knowledge.

“Yes,” Johnny says. His eyes are drooping, but he looks positively overjoyed to be able to share his observation.

“And at the end of the dipper’s handle, you’ve got the Polaris, the North Star; that guided travellers before mankind thought of drawing maps and engineering compasses. Because no matter how much the Earth rotates, it’s the only star that won’t lead you astray. We used to think that it must be completely aligned with the Earth’s axis, but then NASA scientists discovered it’s actually offset by little under a degree.”

“Sometimes I wonder why the stars are located in the positions that we know them to be in. It’s almost like somebody is looking out for us,” Mark muses.

“It’s possible. But whoever that someone may be is definitely not around anymore. Polaris is some 300 light years away from Earth — who’s to say its core hasn’t collapsed yet? We might not ever find out, with how long it takes the light to travel.”

“That’s reassuring and depressing at the same time,” Donghyuck deadpans, making the other two laugh immediately. “Also, I’m very touched by how much you must have stared at my face. I hope this finally means I can be a bear instead of a squirrel.”

“Your priorities, I swear,” Mark shakes his head in disbelief.

“Let me tell you, my priorities are right in order, because I am about to tell Johnny hyung to hang up on us and go to sleep.”

“You bored by my astrophysics already,” Johnny mumbles into his pillow, eyes long since closed.

“We will gladly listen to more of your astrophysics after you’ve gotten at _least_ eight hours of sleep.”

“Hmm, deal.”

 

 *

 

Mark finds out the deal wasn’t upheld, as he sees Johnny at their designated meetpoint across the street from the club, chugging a Red Bull.

“What the hell, man,” he exclaims involuntarily.

“Hello to you too, Mark Lee, my cinnamon apple.”

Johnny looks good. Like, really good. His hair is a few shades lighter than before, black roots peeking through, parted in the middle as per usual. He’s wearing a simple black shirt and ripped skinny jeans, a trenchcoat hanging off his arm carelessly. Some song that is mainstream enough to be on the radio plays so loudly it feels like the earth is rumbling beneath them.

“You look right at home here,” Mark remarks, shaking Johnny’s sarcastic greeting off. Johnny’s head movements come off as carefully practiced, always in rhythm, fingers twitching before every beatdrop.

“This is where I usually do my gigs. I know all the staff, when they play, which music. If Taeil hasn’t called in sick tonight we should be able to get some free drinks, as well.”

“What’s with the _energy_ drinks, though?” Two more cans lie next to Johnny’s feet, obviously empty.

“Just making sure I can keep up with you two,” Johnny laughs. “Do you have a personal aversion against them, or is that why you won’t hug me?”

“No, hyung. I’m just worried about you. Maybe we can just go grab a bite instead—”

“Nonsense. Look, Hyuck is here.”

Mark sees him wave to them, waves back. But before all three of them are reunited, he takes one last chance and cups Johnny’s face to make him meet his eyes.

“I know we haven’t been around for that long, but you’re important, to both Hyuck and me. If something is bothering you, you can always talk to us. Completely judgement free. We can just listen, if you want. Like, like a diary, but human. You don’t need to… keep a brave face all the time, okay?”

Johnny’s lips part as he seems to take Mark’s words in and process them, one at a time. There is no shift in his eyes, no resolution to accept his offer. Mark can only hope that he got through whatever Johnny is using to shield himself, keep himself safe and unaffected. Hope that he won’t completely detach himself, like Donghyuck predicted. Hope that he hasn’t made the wrong decision and spooked him with his concern.

“Okay,” Johnny breathes out. Mark can feel it against his lips. “I promise. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good,” Mark manages back. The beat has dropped once more, but Johnny remains completely still.

“Is _this_ okay?” is asked, quietly, patiently.

Is it?

Mark is no fool. Knows he is, to a certain extent, being distracted from the problem at hand. He also knows he can’t be swayed to forget about it, especially since Donghyuck has taken notice, too. And he’s wanted to kiss Johnny all along; has thought about it, sometimes absentmindedly, sometimes purposefully, after goodnight texts only served to make him more awake. Slowly, Mark arrives at the point where his affection bubbles up and he can’t help but admit that he wants to be physically and emotionally close, wants to hold and touch and _trust_.

Expressing that desire and being the initiator for it is a whole different issue.

But tonight, he can let it be easy. All with a slight nod of his head, and Johnny’s smile close enough for Mark’s eyes to cross.

It’s so warm and comfortable and toe-curlingly satisfying that eager hands and lips can no longer be held back. There’s Johnny’s big hands on Mark’s shoulder blades, sliding up and down his back; and Mark’s smaller hands on Johnny’s shoulders, inching up his neck and back to his cheeks where they were before. They push and pull equally as they kiss, artificial chewing gum-like taste spreading between their open mouths, one of Johnny’s hands finding Mark’s and intertwining their fingers.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Donghyuck’s voice resounds. Mark almost chokes on his own tongue.

Too flustered by the smack of their lips pulling apart, he can’t quite bring himself to open his eyes right away. This is a moment meant to be preserved: from the reflexive fluttering of his eyelashes, to the flutter in his stomach, to the ticklish sensation of Donghyuck’s arm around Johnny’s waist with his fingers rubbing circles on Mark’s hip.

The song playing now is barely slower, but the monotone voice of the singer is grounding. The first thing Mark sees is Johnny’s stupidly shy face, lips parted to catch his breath, and it’s a little out of his control when he lets a quiet ‘shit’ slip.

Donghyuck laughs. His head rests on Johnny’s shoulder, chin squished against it. The logistics of that raise more than a few questions, but the answer is as clear as day once Mark looks down to see two feet standing on their tippy toes.

“You two are so goddamn cute, and this is not the beers talking,” Donghyuck coos, two hearts for eyes and one for a smiley mouth.

Johnny looks like a journalist that was just given the most scandalous headline. “Did you pregame?”

“Just a little,” Donghyuck assures. “To dance better.”

“C’mon, hyung, neither of us is getting wasted. You don’t need to worry,“ Mark adds, tapping the knuckles of Johnny’s hand that he is still holding.

The reassurance is visibly shrugged off as Johnny rolls his eyes. But he holds Mark’s trembling hand through asking Donghyuck if he still has some of that beer, through downing half of it and passing the bottle on.

There is no way it isn’t evident that Mark is still shaky from the kiss when Donghyuck takes his other hand. Despite that, all the younger does is smile at him and pull them towards the entrance.

The security guard standing there is clad in an expensive-looking uniform, arms crossed over his chiseled chest, born to intimidate. He musters Donghyuck and Mark apprehensively, the façade falling away as his eyes fall on Johnny.

“Yah, Johnny,” he says, thick lips stretched in a bunny teeth smile, going in for a hug. “Where have you been?”

Johnny is sheepish in a different way from what Mark has experienced before. His posture suggests that he is about to bow, before remembering that the man is not a stranger. Nobody would be that happy to meet someone for the first time, after all, right?

“Life’s been busy, Hyunwoo hyung,” he justifies, “and it’s about to get a lot busier from this Monday on.”

“I hear you. There are some good perks to doing your degree online, keep that in mind. And don’t overwork yourself!”

“Will do, won’t do,” Johnny laughs.

Hyunwoo nods, the conversation coming to a standstill naturally, as he lets them pass after some brief exchanging of names. Looking back to make sure Mark and Donghyuck are following, Johnny gives them a wink — and suddenly, it’s _loud_.

Lights flash, the atmosphere smokey and contagious. Johnny’s arm wraps around both of the boys with ease, directing them towards the bar. Its counter seems never-ending, stretching alongside a wall stacked with decor and exquisite alcohol, three people behind it mixing drinks and taking orders.

“That’s Taeil!” Johnny exclaims, words almost swept away by the heavy bass. Indeed, a man with dark red hair reacts, continuing to expertly pour gin into a glass from high above, topping the cocktail off with a slice of lemon.

Taeil looks disgruntled, but it seems to be more due to his focus being broken rather than genuine unhappiness at seeing Johnny. He shakes Mark’s hand from over the counter and simultaneously asks Donghyuck for his drink of choice, smile close-lipped but friendly.

“Rum and coke? Really? What are you, a pirate?” Johnny teases.

“I panicked, okay,” Hyuck whines, shoving Johnny back. “He’s your friend, right? I wanted to make a good impression.”

Mark laughs, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he lays his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder and lands a peck under his jaw. He thinks he’s trying to express his endearment without having to put it in words, but truth is, it’s hard to keep his hands off somebody who kissed the feeling out of his legs, and somebody who steals the air out of his lungs without even having to try. The music is good, he feels light on his feet, letting them bounce to the claps of the beat.

“Behave,” Donghyuck demands, but he throws his head back, allowing Mark more access, encouraging him with dull nails scratching on his scalp.

Taeil comes back with the rum’n’coke and a Naked & Famous. Johnny accepts them on their behalf, getting up to stand behind Donghyuck with a soft kiss to the top of his head to notify of his presence. Mark is most definitely not gone enough after a few sips not to care, so he leans back to his own barstool, just in time to hear Taeil talk.

“I’d tell Johnny to stop bringing people here for free drinks, but truth is, this is the first time he’s done so.”

“Interesting,” Donghyuck responds, smugness palpable. “Has he worked here for long?”

“He’s the reason I got this job to begin with,” Taeil says, and that speaks for itself.

“It was just a recommendation,” Johnny murmurs awkwardly. Sensing his discomfort, Mark finds one of his hands that rests on the counter and gives it a squeeze, commenting on how good his drink tastes, instead.

“Thank you, Mark,” Taeil says, wiping his hands on a towel. “Have you guys met Hyungwon yet?”

“Right, I forgot he’s in tonight.”

“I’m sure he’ll let you near the pult if you ask nicely. Your jacket and USB drive are in the back as usual. It was nice meeting you two, maybe we’ll see each other more often.”

With that, Taeil takes his leave to take care of the other customers.

Through the slight haze muddling his brain Mark realizes what the mention of the pult is about, excited to experience Johnny doing what he loves. It takes more than a few affectionate gestures and a whining Donghyuck to make it happen, but eventually Johnny caves in, sneaking them past the counter, through a door he has to knock on and to a small closet occupied by sleek speakers and a pile of flashy clothes. The jacket in question is arguably the least flashy item in the bunch, but once it sits snugly upon Johnny’s shoulders it’s not hard to see why it’s so essential.

“You look like a school choir drummer,” Donghyuck mocks. Despite the snark, his eyes narrow, reminiscent of a camera zooming in on its object, unwilling to look anywhere else.

“You’ll get to watch me kick some ass at drumming then,” Johnny retorts nonchalantly. Mark is utterly amused at the charged silence that settles in, and apparently he is not the only one.

“Phew, it smells like romantic tension in here,” a man chimes in, soft voice barely overpowering the heavy synths.

Johnny chuckles, side-hugging the newcomer. “Always a pleasure to see you around here, Hyungwonnie.”

“Cut the crap, Seo. Go look cool,” Hyungwon runs long fingers through overgrown dark brown bangs. Then his eyes settle on Mark. “Are you eighteen?”

“Sure am,” Mark says with a scowl, ready to defend himself and his babyface.

“Oh, good,” Hyungwon puts his hands up, gesturing that he didn’t mean to offend. The corners of his full lips shoot up. “Very good, in fact. Because I think you’re kind of cute.”

“Go flirt with Hyunwoo, brat. He’s with me,” Johnny says and elbows Hyungwon in the side. The way the latter trips and leans against the wall is clearly exaggerated, but it doesn’t serve to make the two DJs laugh any quieter. Mark shares a look with Donghyuck, but it’s not any helpful in figuring out how to react.

“I better hear more about this later,” Hyungwon insists in the meantime, kicking at Johnny’s ankle. “You have half an hour until my set starts.”

“Whatever,” Johnny mumbles with a smile, taking off the cap and fumbling the USB drive between his fingers. “I’ll text you in the morning.”

Hyungwon hums approvingly. He grabs a jacket from the pile, something too shiny and squeaky to be real leather, and makes to leave, before turning to Mark one last time.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says, swapping the smile for an apologetic look.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark assures, biting his lip. Then adds: “I think you’re kind of cute, too.”

That must have been _exactly_ what the DJ wanted to hear, because he grins so wide his gums show, brushing up against Mark purposefully, and exits through the mysterious door.

The aftermath consists of Johnny and Donghyuck staring at Mark with their most incredulous faces. Donghyuck tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. Johnny adjusts his jacket, lips curled enticingly.

“You’ve awakened my competitive streak,” he says. “You two might have to stay for Hyungwon’s set and tell me who’s better.”

“Guess you’ll have to earn being our favorite DJ _and_ being cute, too, huh?” Donghyuck replies, switching sides so quickly it gives Mark whiplash.

“Damn Taeil,” Johnny shakes his head, laughing, and opens another door. The volume of the music increases significantly. “Come on, let’s get you into the crowd.”

It turns out that being in the crowd essentially makes for a VIP seat to Johnny giving the bedroom eyes to a massive amount of people.

Standing on stage, screams following his every word; it graces Johnny with a magnetic aura, an extension of the effect he already has on Mark. His fingers move nimbly, adjusting the fadeouts to be seamless, holding one side of the headphones up to his ear to hear better. Most of the repertoire makes Donghyuck roll his eyes (“Oh hell, not another Drake song”), but the way it’s remixed leaves nothing to complain about.

“He looks like an idol up there,” Mark says in awe, Donghyuck gesturing for him to repeat it into his ear.

“I was thinking of DJ Khaled, but you’re not wrong,” is Hyuck’s response. Mark pinches his cheek, and Donghyuck yelps, pulls him closer in retaliation.

“Put your arms on my hips, since we’re apparently hell-bent on getting a rise out of him tonight.”

Mark complies a little too eagerly not to be embarrassed about, but the look Johnny gives him right before the beat drop turns his mind into a clean slate. Donghyuck’s warm skin beneath his fingers added on, it’s no wonder he feels like he drank more than he actually did.

“Hey, imagine if we were in an idol group together,” Donghyuck says a few songs later. “All the spotlight would be on you, because Netizens wouldn’t be able to stop writing comments about your seagull eyebrows.”

“Who are you trying to get a rise out of now?” Mark asks, but it’s rhetorical because he can’t stop giggling at the imagery of such comments.

When his attention turns back to the front, Johnny is mouthing the lyrics of the song, eyes unwaveringly trained on the two of them. It takes Mark a few moments to register the English lyrics, and he can’t decide whether he loves or hates the blush rising to the surface of his skin. The distance to the stage is small, but not small enough.

“Is it crazy that I’m so into this?”

“No, not at all,” Mark breathes, trying to make sense of how precisely Donghyuck’s hips move against his.

 

Soon, it’s Hyungwon behind the pult again, leather jacket abandoned in favor of rolled up sleeves and popped buttons. He looks pleased to send Johnny to climb off the stage, setting the transition to something Latin.

“Miss me?” is said, hands skimming over Mark’s waist, feeling out if he’s okay with it.

“Hell yeah,” Mark laughs, leaning back into the sturdy presence that is Johnny.

Trying to move in sync with two other people isn’t easy, but they make a challenge out of it. Whenever someone messes up, the person must take the spot in the middle — which is more of a blessing than a punishment, but that’s what it makes so fun. Johnny has to bend in the knees more often than not, but he receives enough kisses to make up for the trouble and then some. It’s warm and sweaty and the most fun Mark has had in ages, and he doesn’t want it to end.

So when Johnny gestures towards the exit, Mark’s feet move slowly, begrudgingly.

Outside it’s dark. Their outerwear was left behind in the closet room, forcing them to huddle together for warmth on the cold as ice sidewalk. Donghyuck’s arm is around Johnny’s shoulders, barely reaching Mark with his fingertips, whereas his legs are everywhere. Johnny rests his head against Mark’s chest, using him as a body pillow of sorts. The neon lights of the convenience store’s sign across the street flash once, twice, clearly in need of a fix-up, and it adds to the eerie atmosphere of 3 am outside of a club.

Minutes pass with nothing but sighs being released into the cool September air. Mark’s and Donghyuck’s fingers brush as they both pet Johnny’s head, causing them to chuckle quietly. At that Johnny’s breathing picks up in volume so much that it’s no longer just the movement of his chest against Mark’s stomach that gives it away, but the shaky breath-in-breath-out, forcefully prolonged in comparison to Donghyuck’s pants of physical exertion. Fear grips Mark by the throat, paralyzing his hand in Johnny’s hair.

“Hyungie, are you okay?” Donghyuck whispers, effectively taking some of the weight off Mark’s shoulders. Though the timing isn’t appropriate; butterflies erupt at the concern in his tone.

“Yeah,” Johnny replies. Mark kisses the crown of his head, wanting to reward him for the steadiness of his voice. “My head’s just a bit of a mess right now.”

“You remember what I said. We’re here for you, whenever you need us.”

“Do you want some water, maybe?”

“Yes, Mark. No, Hyuck, I feel very much sober. That’s kind of the problem.”

Johnny’s bitter chuckles leave an acidic residue on Mark’s tongue.

“Johnny,” Hyuck says, moving to squat in front of him, right next to Johnny’s outstretched legs. He sounds exactly how Mark feels: longing to fix whatever is haunting the elder, not quite knowing how to.

Cuddles are always a great start, though, so Mark doesn’t make a sound, even though Donghyuck presses Johnny’s body into his ribcage. The discomfort fades into his subconscious. All he can focus on is his rapidfire thoughts, uncomplete memories of jokes that could cheer Johnny up, strings of sentences from unfinished pep talks. Whatever it takes to see him smile again.

“It’s nothing, really. It’s just, like, all the thoughts about all the things that keep me up at night, rushing in to punch me in the gut…”

Donghyuck hums sympathetically, leaving gentle kisses on Johnny’s face. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“If you share even just one with us we can back kick it into oblivion,” Mark offers. Johnny chuckles, slapping his thigh weakly. Jackpot.

“Just normal stuff. Wondering whether I check up on my friends enough. Worrying about drifting apart from my family. Hoping I’m doing well by you two.”

Before any reassurances can be thrown in, he continues sheepishly:

“Uni kind of makes me miserable on top of all that. I didn’t wanna say anything because you guys are so content with what you do, and it makes me happy, it really does. It… you make me happy. I just wish I had the same kind of passion for rocks and shit. I tricked myself into liking it for so long that it just recently hit me how much all of that is just not me.”

“You just condensed the entire geophysics program to ‘rocks and shit’. Clearly, that means you’re not enjoying it,” Mark deadpans. Johnny doesn’t laugh out loud this time, but his chest shakes.

“It’s not too late to start over,” rationalizes Donghyuck. “Find something that makes you as happy as you make us.”

“Such a smooth talker,” Mark mumbles under his breath, but it’s not quiet enough.

“He said it first!”

“I said it because it’s true.”

“I’m gonna push you both off onto the sidewalk in five, four, three—”

“What about photography, hyung?” Donghyuck interrupts.

“I’ve thought about it before. But I’d have to re-do my bachelor’s then, too. Plus… ugh, this will sound ridiculous,” Johnny says.

“You’re afraid academics will taint something that brings you genuine joy,” Mark interjects, looking down at the hobby photographer in question.

“Not so ridiculous when it comes out of your mouth.”

“That’s because it’s not. You either take the chance that you will like something you hated before, or hate something you liked before. One way or another, the right choice is only born through experience.”

“You’re right,” Johnny mutters, clearly deep in thought. So they let the nightly breeze and the dull bass take over their conversation for a while.

 

Half an hour or so later Mark has gone inside to get their jackets, say a hasty goodbye to Taeil. Johnny and Donghyuck are right where he left them, sitting on the asphalt in a tight embrace. Something warm pulses in Mark’s stomach as he comes closer. Takes notice of how their lips mold together, moving slowly but eagerly, Donghyuck sucking air in through his nose as Johnny turns his face to the side and does something wicked with his tongue.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Mark echoes what Donghyuck said to them earlier with a noiseless chuckle.

The moment he says that, however, the two jump apart just enough to wave Mark over and pull him back into the pile, jackets be damned. Laughter fills the air, an edge of surrealism to it.

“C’me closer,” a voice insists.

Mark loses track then.

One pair of lips covers his, a hand cups his cheek, another grasps at his waist hard enough for him to feel it through his coat. The side of his neck is warm, then wet, then cold again. Mark gasps and shudders and giggles in delight all at once. He meets another mouth, movements a little more calculated. But his brain is mush to the point where it would be no use trying to get it to categorize the differences.

“I was starting to wonder how the whole making out thing works out when three people are involved,” Donghyuck says. It’s fair to say that Johnny and Mark fall into hysterics following that.

“I think we’re getting the hang of it,” Johnny responds, voice hushed, soft, pleased. Mark hides his smile in someone’s sleeve.

But time doesn’t wait for anyone. It’s nearing 5 am now and one day to go before it’s all work and no (or less) play. Donghyuck has to talk Johnny into taking the train, because he’s stubborn enough to want to walk in order to clear his head.

“Sorry for being a downer.”

“You weren’t,” Mark says. “You have a tough decision to make, but we’ve got your back. Just— thank you for trusting us with it.”

It’s only Mark and Donghyuck on the uncomfortable metal seats of the train station now, Johnny having left his empty to squat in front of them. He takes Mark’s hand in his left, Donghyuck’s in his right. He looks a lot younger, a little pitiful. A smile breaks in, then, stealing the sadness from his eyes, as he turns his head from one boy to another.

“What if you studied the stars?” Donghyuck asks, beckoning Johnny closer, to rest his heavy head on their thighs. “So you can calculate when the Polaris collapses.”

“It won’t,” Johnny whispers. But the way his wandering fingers still somewhere near Mark’s elbow is telling: he’s taking it into consideration.

“Don’t show up on Monday,” Donghyuck proposes. “Instead, you’ll find yourself an internship at some fancy firm and we will bring you coffee for your lunch breaks.”

“I’ll bring you coffee until I get lucky, then.”

“Okay, you pervert.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that—”

 

  
*

 

The beginning of the semester brings with it a slow but sure radio silence.

There are the brief updates from Donghyuck about the freshmen he got assigned to mentor and bring unscathed through their first week away from home, but they fade into nothingness soon enough. Mark’s ex-underclassmen from high school, Chenle and Jisung, enroll in his university, demanding all his attention and then some. The only time Mark gets to write in the groupchat is when Chenle steals his phone, mysteriously manages to guess his passcode and sends all his contacts selfies from unflattering angles.

Johnny communicates solely in memes. He seems to not have taken Mark’s advice and is instead forcing himself through classes that rob him of his sanity and put him in the headspace of searching through the internet for the most surreal edits available. Mark’s chest aches, but he doesn’t know how to fix it.

That’s the frustrating thing about falling for someone who hasn’t previously been in your life for a while. You can’t call their parents or their best friend, don’t know if you can show up uninvited or if it will only make things worse. You don’t know if they have a sweet tooth or if they like savory snacks, you don’t know their favorite cartoon character to surprise them with an ugly sweater of it. All you know is how their laugh sounds as they crack up at the unfunniest of your jokes, how they taste after a shot of whiskey, how they close their left eye to take the perfect picture.

You know the way they look at someone else, because you look at both of them in the same way, too.

“That’s something worth holding onto, man,” Yukhei says after Mark retells all of that to him.

“I get it, you’d rather skip the whole opening up and getting to trust each other process and jump straight to being disgustingly domestic. But you have to work for it first. I think you’ll find that they’re a lot more ready to let you in than you thought.”

Kun, who is standing in their infinitesimal kitchen and serving some authentic Chinese food — the only time the dorm gets to see anything homecooked is when he comes over — lets out a bark of laughter. “That was surprisingly helpful, Xuxi.”

Yukhei whines, switching from Korean to Mandarin halfway through a speech about how he’s always willing to go above and beyond for his friends, and that Kun needs to quit underestimating him. Not a word escapes Mark’s mouth, but he thinks to himself how obvious it is that Kun does it to get a rise out of Yukhei because that’s the surest way to make him act like a big baby; pouty lips, stomping legs, the whole ordeal. Why Kun would want such a thing — well, that remains unsolved.

“Anyway, Mark,” Kun interrupts Yukhei’s tirade, setting two full-to-the-brim bowls on the table. “I think you should organize something really romantic and text them an invitation to a study date, to surprise them. Then, you’ll speak from the heart; nothing over to the top, just so they are reassured that you want to commit, with and despite all the problems. That you’re always willing to make time and your relationship? Relationships? A priority. Clear the air. Everything should be good then.”

“Nice,” Yukhei exclaims, almost hitting Mark’s reading glasses clean off his nose. “I’ve got a couple of things to do so I’ll take this to my room,” he picks up his bowl and a bottle of gochujang, cradling them to his chest.

“C’mon, Xuxi, you can spare a few minutes to sit with us, can’t you,” Kun starts sheepishly, but it’s like Yukhei doesn’t even hear him.

“Thanks, mom!” he says instead, giving the elder a harsh pat on the back, and the bedroom door shuts after him, the sound deafeningly loud.

Mark winces. Kun doesn’t, all too used to it, but the open softness on his pretty face turns hostile, guarded.

In an attempt to cheer him up, Mark digs into his Shitake fried rice with gusto.

“This is delicious,” he hums, licking his spoon clean. “We don’t deserve you, hyung.”

Kun chuckles, a second away from shaking his head and shrugging Mark’s remark off as he tends to. But something in him breaks as he eyes Yukhei’s closed door, the empty chair he just sat at. It breaks and it molds into something steely.

“You really don’t,” Kun says finally, tone serious.

But he ruffles Mark’s hair and smiles, sincere as ever. Wishes him good luck, asks if the rice is salty enough. And once he’s assured that it is, he takes most of his kitchen utensils, not bothering to wash them, and leaves.

Mark is left with a gnawing feeling in his stomach and fingers itching to write a rant into a chat that would have dropped from his frequently used, had it not been pinned.

 

 

 

Lectures pass in a blur, a good chunk left unattended. Mark feels uninspired, uneasy, agitated. His eyes stay glued to his feet most of the time he spends outside of his room instead of taking in the brightly colored leaves, swept into clean piles along the sidewalks, or the crescent moon in the sky. He misjudges how quickly the temperature drops, and often finds himself shivering on his way home, wishing he never left his bed to begin with.

A week later, he wakes up in cold sweat. An email ‘RE: Deadline extension’ goes out to his professor, and he plugs his headphones in to work on the project he didn’t quite dare to start yet.

True to his word, there is no music for most of it. Mark rummages for his microphone, taking notes for the voiceover by hand. His Dropbox is full of clips he had taken of the scenery during roadtrips in his freshman year and holidays abroad with his brother. He films the sunrise out of his window, his caffeine-jittery hands against the white tiles in the bathroom.

A story begins to unfold between the videos of all three of them, talking gibberish into the camera.

Mark closes his eyes, focuses on the time a month ago. The colors that flash behind his eyelids whenever he thinks of Hyuck’s small hands, the way he roughhouses and loves with them in the same breath. The smells that tickle his nostrils when Johnny’s patient eyes come to mind, two cups of protector’s instinct to a teaspoon of restlessness.

Shaky clips of their feet as Donghyuck sings, voice uniquely nasal and light, like a bird’s, on their way home from the zoo. Johnny cooing at a baby goat. (Hands sliding across bed sheets. Sunflowers turning towards the sun. Hyuck muffling his laughter against Johnny’s neck.)

(Snow falling in Vancouver.) Johnny with his back to the camera, trying on hats that look like they belong more on his nose than on his head. (A pile of thin branches being thrown into the campfire, chatter muffled in the background.) A screen recording of Donghyuck, pixelated but no less beautiful: “I miss you two. But you didn’t hear that from me.” Then, a clip of him doing the Naruto run, Mark hot on his heels, Johnny mumbling something frustrated and endeared. Donghyuck makes a sound that is impossible to describe, impossible not to laugh at.

Taking advantage of his tablet not yet starting to lag, Mark opens After Effects and begins to sketch layers upon layers of animation. Two birds circling each other, dissolving into the Ying and Yang symbol. A lion cub coming to lap at the water, disturbing what is now a pair of koi, only to be joined by two differently sized bears. Vague outlines of silhouettes. Three peace signs come together to form a star, fading into a picture of their hands doing the same.

Audio of Donghyuck doing aegyo is layered over videos Mark took of the sky (they did manage to skip town and go stargazing, after all). It’s sped forward periodically; clouds move, colors fade, before it’s all stars. (Audio of Johnny theorizing about the Moon landing being faked. Audio of Mark snorting.)

The camera zooms in — “Guys, look! Make a wish!” — Mark lets the clips render.

The microphone feels surprisingly light in his hands when he begins to talk, without having to look at his notes.

 

 **_Group chat with_ ** **Donghyuck, Johnny**

 

 **Mark** _(02:45):_ hex guys!

 **Mark** _(02:45):_ i mirss talking to u lol 

 

 **Johnny** _(02:50):_ Is everything okay? Where are you?

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:50):_????

 

 **Mark** _(02:50):_ at homeim fine

 **Mark** _(02:50):_ jus tired

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:51):_ it’s pretty late, you should sleep

 

 **Johnny** _(02:51):_ How come you’re both up anyway

 

 **Mark** _(02:51):_ i finished a rouhg draft of my project!!!

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:51):_ not tired

 **Donghyuck** _(02:52):_ that’s great, mark

 

 **Mark** _(02:52):_ >:(( why not morkle

 **Mark** _(02:52):_ johnny ur up too!!

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:52):_ i wasn’t aware you liked being called that

 

 **Johnny** _(02:53):_ I’m on a late night snack run in a borrowed car

 **Johnny** _(02:53):_ Congrats Mark, you deserve to take a rest. You too, Donghyuck, when you can

 

 **Mark** _(02:54):_ omg john did u steal a car :OOOOO

 **Mark** _(02:54):_ i want to show it to u asap

 **Mark** _(02:54):_ unless u dont wanna?

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:54):_ i’m a little confused but yea, i want to see your project

 

 **Johnny** _(02:55):_ Me too, I’d love that

 

 **Mark** _(02:55):_ no more confusion after that!!! i promise

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:55):_ crazy idea but

 **Donghyuck** _(02:55):_ what about right now? since johnny hyung is in a car and all

 **Donghyuck** _(02:55):_ i’m just… thinking you might change your minds in the morning

 **Donghyuck** _(02:55):_ since you’ve been so quiet in the gc for weeks and the last time we’ve hung out you both had somewhere else to be

 **Donghyuck** _(02:55):_ sorry. i don’t mean to come on too strong

 

 **Johnny** _(02:58):_ I think we have a few things to talk about. Text me your addresses and get dressed, I’ll pick you both up

 

 **Mark** _(02:58):_ A man holding two birds in his hands, the text below reading “Now kith” ( [ picture attachment ](https://goo.gl/images/h8oux7))

 

 **Donghyuck** _(02:58):_ WHAT THE HELL MORKSJDKSJDSKD

 

 

 

Mark sneaks out of the dorms, tablet in tow, before Johnny can even manage to text that he’s there.

The moon is bright and full tonight. The cold prickles on any inch of exposed skin, warning of the wintery chills soon to come; the trees are partially bare, leaves crunching beneath Mark’s feet. His reading glasses sit snugly on his nose still and his hair wouldn’t look presentable without a beanie over it, but that’s the last thing on his sleep-deprived mind.

Instead, he lets the nervous flutter in his stomach ground him against the physical chill. It wasn’t a necessarily relevant reflection during the work process, but Mark suddenly remembers how brutally honest he tends to be with his craft. It’s easy for him to channel certain emotions, to retreat into himself and transform his thoughts into sketches, ideas for scripts, easier than to process them on his own. Releasing the lowest of his worries into something creative, elevating and rationalizing them is helpful in the moment – and often results in a good grade – but afterwards it becomes hard to look back without feeling shameful.

Regardless of the outcome of today’s rendezvous, Mark has a bunch of finishing touches to make until he can turn the project in and never have to look at it again. But he’s not looking forward to the additional embarassment of being present for other people picking at the fruit of his work. What if they don’t like it? Don’t understand it? Think it’s too much?

There is only one car parked in front of the dorm, blocking the entrance illicitly. And it is playing ‘Billie Jean’.

“When have you last slept?” Johnny and Mark say to each other in unison, before promptly dissolving into giggles.

Johnny definitely doesn’t look as bad for wear as Mark oughta for the remark to have been voiced, but he looks tired. His cheeks are pale, sunken. His eyes are alive as ever, though; filled with rivers of longing, waterfalls of subdued joy. Somehow Mark doesn’t even have to think on it. He knows Johnny is as happy to see him as he is to see Johnny, his hand gentle as it caresses Mark’s shadow of a mustache. Relief floods Mark’s system, worries dissolving, but a lump forms in his throat at the thought of the time apart, of what he could have said and done.

“A while ago,“ he manages despite it. “I got a burst of inspiration, so I wanted to make use of it for as long as I could.

Johnny sighs. “How much caffeine are you running on?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Mark chuckles, leaning back against his seat and letting his eyes rest, telling himself that it’ll be just for a moment. Just a moment to come down from the nervous jitters of earlier.

But fog settles in his head, something that sounds like Johnny huffing and saying he looks forward to Hyuck chewing him out. Something like the click of a belt sliding in place and lips on his forehead, before the car starts and consciousness leaves him.

Next thing Mark knows, he comes to hushed voices.

“If you can carry him upstairs—”

“It’s not a question of _can_ , it’s a question of _should_.”

“Sleeping like this is going to give him a crick in his neck, dammit!”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like this.”

“I know. I’m worried too, Hyuckie.”

Silence, but Mark can tell something is happening. The brush of two hands, perhaps; something more, maybe.

“Did I do something wrong?” Donghyuck asks, voice trailing off into a whisper.

“No, love, you didn’t,” Johnny assures softly. “What makes you think you did?”

“Well, why else did we suddenly drift apart like this?”

Johnny smacks his lips. Mark can imagine his face right then, despite having seen it for the first time in a month tonight: that deep wrinkle between his defined eyebrows as he frowns, deeply in thought.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell you what’s going on in Mark’s head. I can tell you what went through mine, but. I think we rushed into it a little bit.”

Donghyuck hums. “Tell me, please.”

“There’s not much to it,” Johnny says, chuckling nervously. “It wasn’t that I was unhappy with anything. I just felt embarrassed to have revealed so much of myself, I wouldn’t stop beating myself up about it. Thinking I scared you guys off. So I figured a little bit of distance would be good, but it ended up being too much, huh?”

“Hyung…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Donghyuck says, all determination and drive once more. “I just assumed how you felt without asking. I thought it was _me_ who went over the top, just telling you to throw everything away like that.”

“I thought it was me,” Mark chips in. He has to clear his throat to get the sleepy roughness out of his vocal cords, and even then, doesn’t quite succeed. “Who did something wrong, that is.”

Donghyuck and Johnny’s heads whip around so quickly it’s comical.

“You have done nothing wrong, ever, in your life,” Johnny recites, faux-serious with the way the corner of his lips twitches.

Donghyuck’s head tilts to the side in confusion at first. The moment in which the realization sinks in for him is so evident that Mark feels a treacherous warmth in his chest; the way Donghyuck looks back to him does nothing to help, either.

Then, he adds: “We know this, and we love you.”

Johnny holds out one arm to bring Donghyuck closer, the other side vacant. “C’mere?”

Mark laughs, unlocking his seat belt, and climbs out of the car on jelly-like legs.

Nothing has changed about the way they fit together all too well. Each of them strives to adapt to make up for the height differences where it’s needed without much thought to it, providing warmth and comfort. Mark is confronted with a feeling reminiscent of the first time he said goodbye to Johnny, back at the restaurant counter, something akin to an ache that he dubs as irrational. Why does it hurt when everything is falling into place?

But the longer he holds on to his boys the more he is put at ease. Donghyuck intertwines his fingers with Mark’s, gracing him with a sheepish smile, one that causes Johnny to chuckle noiselessly. Euphoria and bliss buzz around them, overpowering the last cicadas of the year.

“In conclusion,” Johnny says a few minutes later, muffled from where his face alternates between being pressed into the crown of Mark’s and Donghyuck’s heads. “We need to do a much better job at communicating.”

“For sure,” Mark mutters. He’s no longer jittery, so it’s all but unknown where his courage to continue stems from, when he adds: “Which is why I really wanted to show you guys what my project is looking like right now, because it’s, uh, kind of what’s been on my mind concerning all this.”

“Let’s go in, then,” Donghyuck suggests, separating himself from the embrace with a close-mouthed smile and showing off the keys lodged between his knuckles.

Johnny and Mark follow obediently. They take care to be quiet in order to not get in any trouble, because it’s way past night rest and all they want is to warm up and have some privacy. The elevator seems to be faulty, so they take the narrow stairs, one after another.

Inside Donghyuck’s dorm it’s dark. Some dull desk lamp is turned on, but that in combination with moonlight is enough to navigate the unfamiliar surroundings. Despite that, Mark stubs his toe on some unknown piece of furniture, hisses and, inevitably, gets laughed at. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

Donghyuck sits down on his bed, its size exceeding a regular single by the tiniest bit, urging Johnny and Mark to follow. He scoots until Mark is pressed against him from head to toe and Johnny just about fits with half of his body, holding up the tablet until Mark stops fidgeting and allows their legs to tangle.

“Stage is yours,” Johnny whispers, tapping the power button. Mark gulps, nods, as though in a trance.

He turns to the right. Donghyuck is already looking at him, smile small, shy and encouraging.

“Come on, Morkle,” he says and pinches Mark’s cheek. Mark rolls his eyes, but the knot in his stomach loosens a little, just as Donghyuck intended. He takes the tablet in his hands, going through the motions of entering his password and opening the rendered file.

Johnny presses play for him when he takes too long.

  
*

Johnny’s apartment looks pretty much exactly as Mark envisioned it.

The walls are painted beige, giving off the illusion that there is warm light coming in from the outside when really, the sky is grey and cloudy and there’s no reflection coming from the snow, either, because the flakes turn to water the moment they touch the ground. There is only one plant, and according to Johnny, the only reason why it’s fake is because he can’t deal with the emotional loss of a plant in his care withering.

Somehow, that doesn’t surprise Mark in the slightest.

There are photos everywhere. They hang on strings across walls, from the ceiling, are stuck to the fridge with the help of magnets. Sorted by colors, the ones in the living room are mostly of people in Johnny’s life, some relatively random, of fellow students who were just looking to pose in front of a camera.

The couch is big and comfortable and cuddling two other people turns out to be a highly effective way to stay warm. The blankets are bunched up around Donghyuck’s feet, the smaller claiming his cold feet need it.

“Your feet would be warm if you stopped drinking lemonade that literally just came out of my fridge,” Johnny says, tickling Donghyuck’s wrists into giving the bottle up.

“I would also really appreciate having it back,” Mark adds, catching on and tickling Donghyuck’s armpit.

Donghyuck, to give credit where it is due, barely reacts other than a slight shake of his chest, doesn’t even spill any of the stolen lemonade. He doesn’t even drink, just holds the bottle up to his lips out of sheer stubbornness, until Johnny changes his strategy and kisses Donghyuck on the cheek wetly.

Before Donghyuck can pull Johnny into a proper kiss, Mark makes use of his weakened grip on the drink and peacefully extracts it out of his hand, cheering in success.

“Wait a second,” Mark says after taking a sip. “Am I going mad? Why does it taste like strawberry all of a sudden?”

“Strawberry?” Johnny asks, checking the tag on the bottle that clearly says ‘apple’.

“Strawberry,” Donghyuck echoes, equally as confused. “Oh, that must be my lipgloss. Sorry.”

“Why are you wearing lipgloss around the house?”

“Why did you two give up on putting effort into going out for dates when we’re not even dating, huh?“ Donghyuck blurts out.

Mark blinks. “We’re not?“

“I didn’t know you were bothered by us staying in,“ Johnny starts, a pout forming on his lips, but Donghyuck interrupts.

“I’m not, trust me, I’m not. I’ve just kind of been thinking… we haven’t ever really officially made us a thing. That’s the only way to bring it up I could think of,“ he chuckles sheepishly.

“So, I came up with this.“ At that, Donghyuck kicks off the blanket and gets up, off the couch and into the hall.

Johnny and Mark exchange flabbergasted looks, but neither seems to have an idea of what is going on.

Soon, Donghyuck returns, his hands clenched into fists. Red and white striped string peeks out from between his knuckles, and as he opens them, two bracelets are revealed.

The bracelets are fairly simple, with a knot to keep the size constant and a small feather pendant. What has Mark make a double take are the beads with letters on them; the one Donghyuck holds out towards him spells _FS♡ML._

“Both of you express your emotions through art, through the lenses of your cameras and the hours that go into editing the results to perfection. I really admire that,“ Donghyuck says softly. “I’m not quite as creative. But I hope these are okay, too.“

“Hyuckie,“ Mark breathes, right hand subconsciously grasping for Johnny’s, left for the boy in question.

“Be my boyfriends? For real?“

Johnny laughs, his eyes crinkling in pure fondness. Mark can’t help but join in, as Johnny says: “Make mine looser, please,“ and pulls Donghyuck back onto the couch, underneath the blankets, closer, closer into their arms.

It’s so much better than a romcom.


End file.
